


La Rose Céleste

by OpensUp4Nobody



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Lovecraftian Horror, M/M, everyone is weird, its pretty self-explanitory, or rather playing it up for the camera, r adopts marius, strangeness, the bachelorette au, this story is very strange and rather silly, you dont have to watch the bachelorette to understand the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 01:50:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 55,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpensUp4Nobody/pseuds/OpensUp4Nobody
Summary: As a contestant on the Bachelorette, Grantaire’s main intentions were to A.) insert himself into as much drama as possible and B.) promote his artwork. He had no faith in the Bachelor process, but in all likelihood every moment of his dumpster fire of a life had been building up to playing a fool on national television. He was anticipating a gleefully absurd time devoid of any real romantic potential. He was not, however, expecting to make the acquaintance of fellow contestant and metaphorical angel among mortals, Enjolras.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is maybe a half realistic portrayal of the Bachelorette as a show because I'm a Bachelor fan but I couldn't be asked to pay attention for a whole season, but I guess you probably don't care :-)

Grantaire liked to think that every second of his dumpster fire mess of a life had been building to this moment. He was about achieve his full potential and become a hot mess on The Bachelorette. Perhaps dreams really did come true.

Grantaire squinted out the tinted window of the limousine, which was taking him to the shooting location, wherever that was. He could see only his own excited expression reflected back at him. He was positively vibrating with energy after having been locked away in a hotel room for the past three days, waiting for the production team to get the ball rolling. The arrangement was that contestants went right from casting to filming and they had to keep their mouths shut, so they were essentially placed in isolation as they entered what Grantaire deemed the Bachelor bubble. Inside the Bachelor bubble normal logic did not apply, the show controlled the environment and therefore the rules of engagement figuratively and in a way literally. They were meant to be building toward an actual engagement after all.

In isolation Grantaire had started to go a bit stir crazy as he was not allowed his phone, internet connection, or contact with anyone outside of his handler, Feuilly, who was his link to the outside world. Fortunately, Feuilly was a good guy and Grantaire would likely be seeing more of him as he worked mainly as a cameraman once they were filming. Unfortunately, Feuilly had been very tight lipped about everything, purposely only offering tiny little tidbits about his chances with the Bachelorette in order to make him more anxious to leave his tiny room.

Grantaire had only been told two days previously that Cosette was the woman whose heart he would be fighting for on national television. Cosette had been the sweetheart of the last Bachelor season, which had only ended around a month ago. She had left three weeks out from the finale of her own wishes after the then Bachelor, Theodule Gillenormand, a charming former Lieutenant who had been tragically discharged after losing a leg in a car accident, had apparently insulted her behind the scenes and caused a bit of a controversy. The details remained nebulous, but according to rumor, they had been talking politics and he had said something about the state of the prison system. Whatever had been said, a heated argument had ensued, ending with her departure.

Publicly, Cosette had stated that the two of them were on good terms again, but they weren’t meant to be as a couple and she wished him the best of luck with his new fiancée, though her expression had been somewhat pinched as she spoke. Theodule had responded in the same restrained manner.

Grantaire, an avid member of the Bachelor nation, thought Cosette was pretty fantastic. She was clever, beautiful, and had a good sense of humor, which was more than he could say for most of the other contestants on her season, as entertaining as they were. She seemed like a genuinely good person and had likely been picked as the next Bachelorette because she had such a magnetic television presence. Before her casting on the Bachelor, she was a rather highly regarded YouTube beauty guru and knew how to work a camera. She had remained flirty, but chaste throughout the season, giving her a classier contrast to some of her opponents. How that would play when she was the focus of attention was yet to be seen.

Romantically, she wasn't exactly Grantaire’s type. Not that he particularly knew what his type was, apart from ‘somebody with the ability to deal with me’, but when he looked at her he didn’t get much of a romantic connection. Then again, that wasn’t really what this whole thing was about, at least on his part. He remained skeptical of the Bachelor vision of romance, as entertaining as it was, he doubted he would find love on a highly produced television show. He was more interested in watching and taking part in the drama and as a bonus, self-promoting.

Grantaire worked as a tattoo artist, he had gained some level of name recognition in the field and had been asked to do a number of high-profile designs. That was how he had ended up on the show in the first place. One of the producers happened to be visiting Cleveland, where his main shop was located, and had asked him to nominate himself as a contestant in the middle of getting a tattoo done. Months later, he somehow ended up making it through casting. He liked to think it was because he knew exactly how to play it: charming but odd. Likely they had cast him more as a character than anyone with actual romantic potential and he was absolutely fine with that. He would gladly deliver.

As such, it was all about presentation.

For his first outfit he had chosen something fashionable but casual. Black slacks and a short sleeve v neck that showed off the sprawling the expanse of tattoos rolling down his arms in a cascade of flowers and multilingual quotes. Some of the work had been done by him, some by his boss, Eponine. The look was probably more casual than most of the other outfits would be, but he had it on good authority that it made him look fit. His only color came in the form of his glow in the dark green dress shoes, which still had black souls and black laces. Eponine had bought them for him as half a joke, saying that she needed a way to keep track of him when he went stumbling off into the dark, but Grantaire was a little bit in love with them. They made him feel like a ten-year-old in the best possible way.

As for his chances of making it through the night, his plan was to play the game hard just to see how far he could make it. He thought at the very best he would stay in until she started having to make more serious choices about who to cut, _maybe_ he could brush the final ten, but that would be pushing ito

The vehicle came to a slow stop and Grantaire’s heartbeat picked up the lost momentum. When he opened the limo door, Cosette stood a short distance away in a glittering white dress. She looked like a movie star, her blond hair spilling elegantly over her shoulders.

Grantaire slipped out if the limo with a grin, a beaten-up green folder with a little black kitten on the front tucked carefully under his arm.

"Hi," he said, having to make an effort not to stumble over his words and giving her a warm hug, as was customary. She was small, soft and smelled like apples.

"Hi," she beamed in return as he pulled back, all charm.

"So, I'm Grantaire, it's amazing to meet you, I'm a little star struck," he said in embarrassing honesty. It was very strange to meet a person he’d watched so avidly on tv. He had seen a few celebrities in his time and oddly enough this was the most floored he’d been in a celebrity interaction. Not to mention he could see the camera crew out of the corner of his eye. He nervously plowed onward. "And ah this may be a little cheesy, but I know on your season you said dinner at the top of the Eiffel Tower was your ultimate dream date, so I made a little picture of you gazing down upon Paris." he pulled the tiny painting from his kitten folder and handed it to her. "It's a little rough because of the limited time," he apologized. It was a stylistic painting of a blond girl sitting alone at a table were a single rose sat in the center, her face was turned, looking over the rail of the tower, the lights of the city twinkling beyond. It wasn’t his best work, but he didn’t entirely hate it.

Cosette gasped, "It's amazing! I am going to treasure it always!" she clutched it to her chest, her eyes flicking up to meet his, "You're an artist then?"

"Tattoo artist," he corrected.

"Are these also your work?" she waved vaguely at his arms.

"Some of them, I know you have limited time right now, but ask me later and I can show you which ones are mine."

"Oh, setting up a second meeting already, you are very smooth,” she scoffed lightly.

"Thank you, m'lady," he bowed.

She laughed, "Grantaire, I like you already."

"Call me R."

"R, then," she clasped his shoulder, "Unfortunately, I have to keep it moving otherwise we’ll be here all night, but I will see you later."

"It was wonderful to meet you."

"You too." She smiled, looking as if she meant it.

As he walked away he felt pretty good about his first impression. Even if they weren’t a romantic match, he at least thought he and Cosette could be friends.

Grantaire walked along an illuminated path to a fancy looking building with an open door. Inside he was greeted by the long-standing Bachelor host, Bahorel, who took his hand at once. “Welcome to the Bachelorette, Grantaire.”

Grantaire smiled at him, with barely restrained glee. “Thank you. Is it embarrassing to admit that I have wanted to meet you for literally the longest time?”

“Only a little bit,” Bahorel laughed, “Feel like you’re up for this?”

“I would say I was born for this, but I’m afraid you’ll just cut to me being the first to leave.”

“Those cheeky editors. You’ll just have to prove yourself worthy, won’t you?”

“That I will.”

“It was grand to meet you, ‘Aire.” They were still holding their handshake, Grantaire realized in embarrassment, but instead of letting go, he clasped his other hand over the host’s, as if they were sharing a tender moment.

“Bahorel, I love you and I will probably ask for your autograph later.”

Bahorel was obviously trying to suppress a smile. “I’m not allowed to have favorites, but Grantaire, I think you might be my favorite.”

“Now I can die happy,” he swooned melodramatically as he dropped the hand.

“Alright, get inside and stop seducing the host.”

Grantaire gave him one last grin before walking further into the room, not realizing he had accidentally dropped his empty folder on the ground until he had gone too far in to justify the awkwardness of going back; best to keep moving forward. The venue was some sort of fancy party space. The area he had entered was open with a table full of drinks and food off to one side as well as a porch that led off into a large garden area. There were a handful of other men already drinking and talking. Grantaire made a b-line for the alcohol, as he was wont to do as a lowkey alcoholic. As he poured himself a glass of wine there was a voice behind him.

"Sweet tattoos."

Grantaire turned to see a tall bald man smiling pleasantly at him. "Thanks, I could set you up if you like," he said, taking a drink.

"Nah, with my luck I'd get an infection or have a reaction and never recover.”

“You could get a good luck tattoo, ward off ill fates.”

The man seemed to consider it. “Perhaps, though I’ve tried just about everything else and nothing seems to help. Bossuet, by the way." He held out a hand which Grantaire shook, careful to hold it out for a normal length this time.

"Grantaire. Good to meet the competition. How's the bunch looking so far, any troublemakers among us?"

"The guy in the corner by himself,” Bossuet nodded across the room, indicating a shifty looking guy who stood glaring out a window, “His name is Montparnasse, and he keeps looking around like he expects someone to fight him or something. I watched him pickpocket a flip comb out of another guy’s pocket earlier."

"Well, I’ve always said that if you can lose your comb so easily then you do not deserve to have it. But in any case, I'd best keep my possessions close and my eyes open. Any idea what he does for a living or do you think he’s a professional comb thief?”

“No idea, I talked to him for two seconds before he decided I wasn’t worth his time.”

“Wow, what a dick,” he took another drink, “Hopefully Cosette isn’t into bad boys. Speaking of which, what do you think your chances are with Cosette? You know, just out of curiosity."

"I tripped getting out of the car, so either I blew it or she'll take pity on me and not send me home straight away."

“She seems pretty forgiving, I’m sure as long as you can snag her again tonight she’ll want to keep you.”

“Think I’m her type, do you?”

“Well, who wouldn’t want a strapping young… What do you do for a living?”

“I’m an architect.”

“Who wouldn’t want a strapping young architect, such as yourself? You could probably build her epic tree houses and that alone would be worth keeping you.”

“This is true, however, the last time I attempted to build a treehouse, I fell out of the tree, broke my arm, and my doctor tried to strangle me,” he laughed.

“Um, what kind of doctor do you go to?”

“A passionate one. I end up in the emergency room so often that they always pawn me off to Dr. Joly.”

“Who gets so passionate about his doctoring that he tries to murder you?”

Bossuet gave a soft smile. “I think he was attempting to shake the sense into me. He just worries too much.”

“Oh, so he’s a doctor friend then.”

“Yes, I’m not just some horrible patient that induces rage in my doctors.”

“I wish I had a doctor friend. Sometimes I have random medical questions, usually associated with hypothetical mutants and I’m too lazy to search for answers myself.”

The two continued to chat as they waited for the other contestants to file in, Bossuet seemed like a good guy and Grantaire was hoping he would make it through. As the night wore on and the room began to fill, the two separated to meet the other contestants. Grantaire was not bothering to learn names just yet, at least for the guys who didn’t make much of an impression, some number of them would be going home at the end of the night anyway. A handful of them seemed to be empty in the head behind pretty faces, which made them half hilarious half infuriating to converse with.

Sometime later, Grantaire was walking past the entryway when someone bumped him, nearly causing him to spill his drink.

"Sorry!" A young man grabbed Grantaire by the arm in an attempt to steady him. He looked more than a bit frazzled and vaguely familiar.

"No worries, fair lad,” Grantaire said, righting himself, “What's got you all in a bother?"

"I'm just a bit- I just met Cosette and-" he struggled for words, "Wow, she's amazing." The boy rambled, his curls bobbing as he gesticulated wildly.

“Indeed, she is.”

“I mean, when I saw her on tv it was one thing but-“ he clutched his heart in what appeared genuine distress, “She is even more wonderful in person, I don’t know that my heart can take it. And to think, I may not make it through the night.”

Grantaire watched him in amusement, “Pray tell, what is your name, you sweet romantic soul?”

“Marius.”

“Good to meet you, Marius. Forgive me, you look a tad familiar."

"Yes, well, my cousin was the last Bachelor,” he grimaced.

"Oh, yikes.” He had clearly been placed there to potentially start drama, though Grantaire doubted it would go anywhere compelling.

"Yeah,” he worried, “I don’t have much contact with my family, so I hope she won’t hold it against me."

"She doesn’t seem the type.”

“No, she seems…” And with that Marius was off on a dopey eyed rant about how lovely Cosette was despite having spoken to her for less than five minutes.

Grantaire sipped his drink, only half listening to Marius when he caught a glimpse of a red coat and long blond hair across the room. In a sea of dark colors, the red was a beacon. The man had just swept in the door and appeared to be assessing the room. His face was turned away, but even in profile Grantaire felt a spark of recognition. He watched the man as he stood off to the side, where he had been approached by Bossuet. The two spoke for a few minutes, Grantaire trying not to stare, but when he noted that the two had parted ways he could stand it no longer.

"Hold that thought, Marius." Grantaire reached out an arm and snagged Bossuet out of the crowd as he was passing. "Bossuet, this is Marius. He is a precious flower, don't let anyone hurt him." He slipped away after the blond, who remained where he had been, observing, hands startlingly drink-less.

"Hello," Grantaire said upon approaching, "This is going to be really weird if I'm wrong, but is it possible that I might have seen your face on a billboard?" Unless the guy had an identical twin, he couldn’t possibly be wrong. Grantaire had spent far too much time staring at this particular billboard and even if he hadn’t he would not forget a face like that.

The man was tall and blond, with a face so angelically beautiful it would make a renaissance painter weep in shame. He raised a perfect eyebrow. "Was this billboard in Cleveland?"

"Yes, it was. Something law related, I believe?"

"I'm a criminal defense attorney, my firm wanted to use my face for PR."

"I can see why,” Grantaire said before he could stop himself, “What on earth is a professional like you doing in a place like this?"

The man gave a bemused smile. "Oh, looking for love just like everyone else."

"Uh-huh,” Grantaire said, not believing it for a second. "And what do you think of Cosette?"

"She was lovely for the all of two minutes I spoke with her."

"Did you watch the last season?"

"I did not, I typically don’t have time for tv."

"And now here you are taking part in it."

"I was told to try taking myself a little less seriously for a change.”

"Well, you have come to the right place. I'm Grantaire, by the way. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Is it? I was under the impression we were competing."

"I'm a good sport. Your name is...?”

"Enjolras."

"Tell me about yourself, Enjolras, I'm dying to learn more about the mysterious lawyer in the red coat."

“I hardly think I’m mysterious.”

“Au contraire, you stand here off to the side, watching over the competition, mind unimpaired by alcohol. One might think you were plotting something.”

“Just gaining awareness of my surroundings.”

“Are you expecting an assassination attempt of some kind? If so, I think the red may have been a poor choice.”

“It doesn’t hurt to be cautious, I like to know what’s going on around me.”

“Anything of interest out there?”

“Well, not that I’ve seen so far, but interestingly enough, this conversation isn’t going quite where I expected and I’m not entirely sure where it will end up.”

“It could end up wherever you like, provided you start ranting at me. Although, I warn you, I will not be out ranted.”

Enjolras sized him up rather seriously. “I don’t know, I do have some experience in rants.”

“Yeah? Try me, goldilocks, I could talk you blue in the face.”

Enjolras opened his mouth, but there was sudden a flurry of activity about the room as Cosette waltzed in and stepped up to Marius, presumably asking him to step aside with her for a moment. Marius, who stood motionless at Bossuet’s side, looked awed and terrified but quickly followed after her.

Grantaire couldn’t help but smile. "You know, I hope he gets the first rose. The first impression usually takes it and they would be very cute together."

"Throwing in the towel already?"

"I'm just thinking like a viewer, I suppose. So, tell me, Enjolras, what sort of people do you work with as a criminal defense attorney?"

"I protect those in need of protecting. And fight for their ability to live what should be a normal life."

“Very noble of you. Where lay your passions? What compels you?”

“I want to give people a better chance. The system is in desperate need of amendment.” This drew Enjolras into a rant about the state of the Cleveland legal system and how the courts work as a whole, all idealistic notions of positive change by appeal to the people.

He spoke with such conviction that it was all Grantaire could do to keep from ogling at him, but when Enjolras stopped for a breath, the words that came from the artist’s mouth were blunt and cynical. “What will you do when you find that no one cares?”

Enjolras stopped short. “What do you mean?”

"Listen, I respect the hell out of what you're doing and I've known you for all of two seconds and already I would follow you to the ends of the earth, but I think you give people too much credit."

"You think I'm wasting my time." He scowled.

"No, I just think you'll spend your whole life fighting a broken system that no one else wants to fight for. You might be better off in a higher office where you can actually get things done. That is, if anyone would elect you, you would scare the piss out of the competition, I can tell you that much."

"I want to gain the groundwork first and do as much as I can."

"Then even you don’t think you will get very far where you are now."

"Unfortunately, as you said, I can only do so much from my current position, but that won’t stop me trying. If I have to personally appeal to every member of the local government in order to get even a little bit done, I’ll do it."

“So, you have political ambition. Aren’t you worried people won’t take you seriously after this?” If he ever intended to run for office, volunteering to go on a trashy reality show like the Bachelorette seemed a huge risk. Sure, he would gain name recognition and perhaps be able to get his ideas out there but he better hope that he didn’t do anything stupid.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “No one takes me seriously now, and I’ll succeed because I will fight for the people. Whatever it takes.” There was a slightly manic intensity about him as he spoke.

“Well, I think you’ll either succeed or die trying and make for a stunning martyr. What’s the ultimate goal then, world domination?

"A better future. I'd like to avoid world domination if I can. The people should have a role in how they live their lives."

Grantaire scoffed, "Unfortunately, I think the only way we’re going to find a better future is if you can mind control everyone into submission."

Enjorlas appeared thoroughly vexed. "How can you have so little faith in humanity? We live in a beautiful world. Flawed sure, but so long as we work to fix it-“ he was interrupted as Marius stumbled back into the room and over to Grantaire, the first impression rose in hand. He looked as if he’d been through some sort of exhausting event. He opened his mouth but no words came forth.

"How did it go, Romeo?" Grantaire asked when Marius seemed to be drifting where he stood.

"She gave me this." He held the rose close to his chest.

"Is she talking to someone else now?"

"Yeah, that Montparnasse guy stole her away."

"Should I go interrupt them?" Grantaire chirped gleefully.

"Don't go making trouble!" Marius gasped.

"I'm not." Grantaire lied, “Where are they?”

“Back in the garden area. Grantaire, don’t make a fuss!”

"I won’t!” he turned from Marius to Enjolras, “Wish me luck?"

"You are my competition."

"Like I stand a chance competing against a face like yours." Grantaire shook his head, wandering off into the gardens before anyone could stop him.

Cosette was giggling when Grantaire approached. He waited a few moments ducked behind a geranium bush so as not to be flat out denied, but enough to cut their interaction short.

When he popped out their backs were to him. "Hello,” he said sliding into view, “Sorry, could I steal you for a moment," he asked Cosette.

"Sure," Cosette smiled, "It was lovely talking to you." she said to Montparnasse who was giving Grantaire a subtle death glare. "What can I do for you?" she asked when Montparnasse had retreated.

"Oh, I thought I'd just fight for a little time with you. Just trying to figure out how to interact in this strange setting."

"Oh yes, it’s so weird isn’t it? You get used to it after a while, I promise, but it takes a bit."

"How are _you_ feeling so far? I can imagine it's emotionally taxing trying to meet everyone at once."

"It is, but I think I'm actually doing okay so far. I've met some really amazing guys already and I'm excited to see where this adventure takes me." She was glowing, obviously talking about someone in particular, and Grantaire sincerely hoped it was Marius.

"Cosette, you are too adorable." He shook his head.

She ducked her head as she laughed.

"I'm serious, you are a little ball of sunshine."

“I’m going to get a big head after tonight, I don’t think I’ve received so many complements in all my life.”

“Well, we are just trying to make up for that.”

“Mmhm,” she rolled her eyes, “So, you said you would tell me about your tattoos.”

“Yes,” he began pointing out which tattoos had been done by him and how long ago he had done them.

“I think if I got a tattoo it would be too much for my poor father,” Cosette laughed.

“Sometimes, the rebellion is the most fun part.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that to him, I’m sure it’s already killing him that I’m here.”

He shrugged. “Temporary tattoos are fun too.”

“That might be more my style.”

"Excuse me," came a voice to Grantaire's left, "Mind if I cut in?" Enjolras smiled politely.

"You!" Grantaire said accusingly.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "Me."

"Dammit, Apollo, you're gonna make me look bad.” He shook his head, “Talking to the big shot lawyer right after the lowly artist.” He turned to Cosette, “Ask this guy about his feelings on something tediously political, I bet he'll talk your ear off. Then again I bet you could make the ins and outs of tax collection sound interesting." He scowled.

"I think you're supposed to be selling yourself to her, not me,” Enjolras pointed out.

"Bah, I suppose you don't need the help,” he heaved a heavy sigh, “I guess I'll let you two chat."

"Goodbye, Grantaire."

“See you later, R,” Cosette winked.

Bossuet was giggling as he returned. "Did Enjolras steal the girl from you?"

" _Yes_ ,” he said, accepting a mockingly scandalized tone, “Who does he think he is? Did _you_ tell him to go after her?"

"Maybe. He doesn't know the ropes yet, I was only trying to be helpful."

“I’ve been betrayed,” Grantaire clasped a hand to his heart, “I thought we were friends, Bossuet.”

“Consider it payback for leaving me with captain daydreams over there,” Bossuet nodded to Marius who was sitting off to the side, still staring lovingly at his rose.

“Hush! Marius is a darling. I couldn’t just leave him to fend for himself.”

“Agreed, Marius must be protected, he has no sense and I fear that Cosette has bewitched him.” They both watched poor Marius carefully as he looked up under their gaze. Grantaire gestured for him to join and he approached.

“Yes?” Marius asked.

“We are forming a gang and would like for you to become a member,” Grantaire announced.

“We are?” Bossuet asked.

“We are. Are you willing to join?”

“I’ve never been in a gang before.”

“You know, Marius, I find that very hard to believe,” Bossuet laughed.

“Are there any initiation requirements?”

Grantaire nodded gravely, “You must give me your firstborn child.”

Marius frowned, “I don’t think I could do that.”

“You passed the first test, what I really need is your soul.”

“That I suppose you could have, who needs a soul when you have heart.”

“Ugh, you absolute sap. Your soul is accepted, welcome aboard our gang, Marius, we are glad to have you.”

“Do I owe you my soul as well?” Bossuet asked.

“As cofounder of this gang, you can keep your soul until the time comes that I need it.”

“You’re just worried I’ll transfer my bad luck.”

“Your damn right I am, if you sabotage me with your bad luck, you might overthrow me as gang leader and I can’t allow that.”

“Do we have a gang name?” Marius asked.

“Les Amis de l’ABC,” Grantaire declared dramatically.

Bossuet gave him a calculating look. “…Is that a French pun?”

“Oui.”

“Then if we are the friends of the lowly, who are the lowly?”

“Marius, of course.”

Bossuet gave a startled bark of a laugh and Marius looked upset.

“Chin up, Marius, I think he means this is the Marius protection squad,” Bossuet clapped him on the back.

“Oh, well thank you. Who do I need protection from exactly?”

“Everyone,” Grantaire informed him, “this show is going to try to rip you to pieces and we cannot stand for that.”

Marius was still looking a bit confused as Enjolras approached their little trio.

"How dare you come here after what you did,” Grantaire teased, “Let’s hear it then, how was your conversation, you sly bastard? I hope it was worth stepping on my heart."

"It was fine, thank you for asking,” Enjolras drawled.

"Drill her on politics?"

"We'll save that for later."

“Oof, sounds sexy. Tell me, do you dabble in political dirty talk?” Grantiare asked in a low tone, leaning forward, “Talk corporate tax reform to me, Enjolras,” he moaned. Perhaps he was getting a little tipsy.

"Don't start a conversation you can't finish." Enjolras warned, deadpan.

"Who says I won’t finish?"

“Oh my god, stop,” Bossuet shoved him. “Would you like to join a gang, Enjolras?”

“What sort of gang?”

“We are in the business of protecting Marius from those who might attempt to break his delicate heart, all you need to do is pledge your soul over to Grantaire and your membership is guaranteed.”

“I promise I’ll take good care of it,” Grantaire assured.

“And if I have no soul?”

“No soul?!” Grantaire cried in outrage, “What did you do with it?”

“Perhaps I was born soul-less, am I exempt from joining?”

Grantaire lifted a hand to stroke his chin thoughtfully. “Normally, this would be exempting, but it’s a special case so I’ll allow it.”

“Oh yeah? What makes this a special case?” Bossuet asked slyly.

“Every good gang needs a lawyer on staff,” Grantaire said innocently.

“Well then, I guess that settles it. Welcome to the gang, Enjolras.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, Amis, I best be off to snag a second with Cosette before I lose my shot,” Bossuet sighed.

“And I need to keep up with any potential drama brewing,” Grantaire grinned.

Enjolras frowned. “Does that put me on Marius watch?”

“I’m not a child,” Marius pouted.

“He doesn’t need a baby sitter,” Grantaire assured, “Just an ever-present eye on him.”

“I’ll observe from the sidelines then. Good luck on finding your drama,” Enjolras nodded gravely.

“I thank you humbly.”

Grantaire was not given much time to go digging about, he was attempting to eavesdrop on the small group that had gathered around Montparnasse when he was called away for his end of the night interview by Feuilly.

“Are you my interrogator tonight?” he asked as the cameraman fiddled with his machinery.

“Nope, I’ve just been spying on you all night.”

“Comforting, I hope you stayed to my left, that’s my best angle.” He tipped his head and gave the camera his best sexy model stare.  

“I’ll keep that in mind moving forward.”

“R!” came an excited shout as Grantaire was side hugged by a very familiar producer.

“Hey, Jehan! Good to see you again, how’s the tattoo?”

Jehan’s tattoo was a delicate little bouquet of flowers, winding their way up his neck. At their base they came together, growing out of the tail of a disembodied eyeball.

“Excellent, it fills me to the brim with happiness.”

“That’s what I like to hear. I guess you’ll be asking the questions then.”

“Yes, if you would take a seat. I’m sure you know how this works.”

“I babble on about a bunch of nonsense and pray that the editors make me sound good in the final cut.”

“Exactly, let’s keep it quick so you can get back. Why are you here?”

“I’m here because I want to find my person and I’m hoping that person will be Cosette.”

"What do you think of Cosette?"

“I think Cosette is a precious gem, the full package, anything a guy like me could ever hope to want. And above all, absolutely adorable.”

"How will you feel if you don’t get a rose?"

Grantaire took a deep breath like the idea pained him. “If I don’t get a rose- Well, if it’s not meant to be then I understand and wish her the best, but I’d really really like the chance to know her better.”

"What do you think of the other guys here?"

“I wasn’t sure what to expect from the other guys, but I think I’ve made some friends tonight.”

“Anything you wish to say about the three of them?”

It was a little startling to realize that all of his conversations throughout the night had been closely recorded. “I can already tell that Bossuet is great, Marius is sweet, and Enjolras is a force to be reckoned with.”

Jehan beamed at him. “That should do it, unless you have anything else to say.”

“Just that even if I go home tonight, I’ll still be glad I came.” Perhaps he was covering his ass a bit, just in case he was sent home.

Grantaire milled about for a bit post-interview before the start of the rose ceremony signaled the end of the evening.

The rose ceremony lasted four hours because each rose had to rearranged every time one was awarded for camera reasons. Twenty-seven men stood together waiting for their names to be called. Grantaire spent the first three people staring at the back of Enjolras' pretty blond head before the lawyer had his rose. Grantaire then watched Montparnasse accept a rose. Grantaire was almost startled when his name was ninth to be called. He stepped away from the group and up to Cosette as she held the rose in hand.

“Grantaire, will you accept this rose?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said.

She smiled brightly and pinned the rose to the front of his shirt before letting him pass back into the main building.

“Congratulations,” Enjorlas said as Grantaire took a gulp of wine.

The artist raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were competition.”

“I get the feeling you’ll keep things interesting.”

“You bet your ass I will.”

“I’m so glad you guys made it through,” Marius said nervously.

“Did the other kids scare you?” Grantaire asked.

“I just like you guys,” he said softly. Grantaire gave his hair an aggressive ruffle in return.

The three of them cheered as Bossuet was the thirteenth to be accepted, startling the other contestants. Grantaire thought the production team probably had him called thirteenth on purpose.

After that the night lost its focus as Grantaire continued to drink, it was all a blur of laughter, roses, bright lights, idealistic political views, and a handful of blossoming rumors.

In the end, twenty contestants made it through the first elimination. The survivors were all then packed away into cars and driven off to the Bachelor mansion where they were split up into four rooms, each with three sets of bunk beds. Grantaire was in the same room as Bossuet, all he really remembered from this procedure was being dragged down a hallway and dumped into a bottom bunk. It was 4 am by the time they all finally were off to sleep, Grantaire dreaming of vengeful rose laden angels descending from the open sky in a glowing aura of heavenly light.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cute baby animals and r making pancakes.

"Time to get up, R." Grantaire woke to Bossuet shaking his shoulder.

"What time's it?" the artist groaned, rubbing his tired eyes.

Bossuet’s face came blurrily into view. "Seven thirty. We leave in forty minutes, breakfast is downstairs."

Grantaire whined pathetically but rolled out of bed, everyone else had apparently already gone.

"Any idea what we need to wear?"

"Normal clothes."

"Gotcha, thanks."

"No problem, see you downstairs."

Grantaire quickly got himself together and made his way down to the kitchen. Both the kitchen and dining area were stuffed with men eating their breakfasts. Grantaire wound his way through the crowd and grabbed a banana, bowl of cheerios and a glass of orange juice before slumping into a dining room chair. His head was murder.

"Curse indoor lighting," he moaned, “The world was better off when we were forced to dwell in darkness.”

"I told you not to drink so much."

Grantaire jumped at the sound of Enjolras' voice behind him. "Did you?" he asked as he turned, his mouth moving before his brain had the time to keep up.

Enjolras nodded, "Yes, three times. You accused me of trying to suck the fun out of the room and called me a fun sucking vampire while trying to ward me off by making a cross with your fingers."

"Well... That does sound like me. Sorry about that," he said awkwardly, "Aren't you eating anything, or are you an actual vampire?

"Already ate."

“A likely story, that’s exactly what a vampire would say.”

"Some of us were up with the first call and had the time to eat beforehand," Bossuet interjected, shoving a spoonful of peach yogurt into his mouth and coming to a stop beside Enjorlas.

"Well, when I sleep, I sleep like the dead." It often happened that he drank himself into unconsciousness. Sober or not, his sleep schedule was erratic. "Where's Marius?"

"Sadly peeling a tangerine over there." Bossuet pointed to where Marius was staring longingly out the window.

Grantaire raised his voice. "Marius, why are you staring off into the distance?"

Marius’ head snapped up, “I- Uh, no reason.”

"Cheer up, you don't want to let Cosette see you moping about,” Grantaire warned.

"I suppose you're right,” he said though worry still lined his face.

"I'm always right,” the artist mumbled, “Shut up, Enjolras, I can feel you wanting to object.”

“I just think your point of view is limited by your-“

“Hey, I said shut up. No politics over breakfast.”

As he spoke Jehan entered the room. "Alright everyone, we are about ready to head out."

Grantaire stuffed his face with banana as they he followed the crowd outside where they were herded into three little busses. Grantaire ended up next to Marius and fell asleep smushed against the window. Marius was too busy fretting to notice. He awoke some undetermined amount of time later as the vehicle came to a stop and everyone exited.

They were on a small farm. A moderately sized white house stood at the end of a well-kept yard. There were two large barns on the property, one having a chicken coop attached to the side and the other standing alone.

Ahead of the crowd, Bahorel stood beside Cosette who looked very excited.

"Hello everyone!" Bahorel grinned. "I think we are all very excited to be here, if you will follow us.” They were all led to the barn that stood alone and after a dramatic pause Bahorel threw open the door to reveal two large penned off areas. Small whimpering sounds could be heard from the pens as Cosette stepped forward.

"Okay, so,” she waved her hands as she spoke, “I grew up with a big goofy poodle and I always wanted cats, so I am very excited to be here at Wiggle Boi Farms, proud cat and sheepadoodle breeders, who are giving us a day to spend with their puppies and kittens,” she said, gleefully motioning them forward.

Upon closer inspection, the pen to the right was filled with fifteen or so black and white puppies, perhaps a few months old and the other filled with around the same number of kittens.

There were multiple gasps and coos as the little fur babies wobbled around, awkwardly playing. One of the owners, a middle-aged woman, came forward to explain to them a little bit about the breeding, but Grantaire was too overwhelmed by the cuteness to pay attention. When they were finally released from listening, he made his way over to the puppies, reaching down to let the chubbiest one lick at his fingers. He spent a few moments lost in the adorableness of it all before looking up to observed the room. Across the pen, Cosette was leaning with one hand on Marius' shoulder as the puppy he was holding licked her face. Grantaire smiled. Bossuet was not far from the, inside the pen as the puppies tried adorably to eat his shoes. Enjolras was one of the few over by the kittens. Unable to stay away, Grantaire approached the lone blond.

"Why are you hanging around the cats?" he asked. Enjolras was kneeling to let a kitten bite his fingers.

"Dogs hate me,” he said without looking up.

Grantaire made a face. "I'm sure that’s not true."

"I swear it is."

“Alright, let’s do a little test.” Grantaire tugged at his arm and Enjolras allowed himself to be guided over to the puppy pen. Grantaire reached down and retrieved a sleepy puppy, setting it carefully into Enjolras’ arms.

The lawyer held the dog awkwardly, looking uneasy as the puppy started to squirm, giving a little bark of annoyance.

"See," Enjolras said stiffly, holding the puppy back to Grantaire who soothed the unhappy dog.

"You're just being weird about it,” he said, “She can sense your weirdness. You just need to relax a bit. Do you have some kind of dog trauma?"

Enjorlas shifted awkwardly. "No, dogs just make me nervous. I’d rather, just hang out with the kittens. Cats like me."

“You would be a cat person.”

“You would be a dog person.”

“Hey, I may be a dog person, but I can appreciate the feline charms. But I guess I can’t force you to make dog friends, return to your people if you must.” Grantaire gave the dog a kiss on the head before setting it back into the pen.

Enjolras moved away. Grantaire was about to follow so that he could continue to be bothersome when he heard Cosette speaking with the owner and stopped to eavesdrop. He casually glanced over to see her still standing beside Marius, who was on his knees petting an adult dog.

"We have another litter on the way,” the owner was saying, “but the mommy hasn’t been eating, and we can't get ahold of our usual vet at the moment.”

"Oh, one of the guys is a vet,” Cosette replied, “I'm sure he could check up on her." She looked around and her gaze fell upon the apparent veterinarian. "Hey, Montparnasse, they're having issues with a pregnant dog. Do you think you could have a look at her?"

"Of course,” Montparnasse was all too happy for the attention, “just show me where to go. Would you like to come with?”

“Sure, I never pass up an opportunity to learn something.” She gave Marius a comforting smile before wandering off with the other contestant.

As soon as she had gone, Grantaire grabbed the distraught Marius and dragged him over to Bossuet.

"Did you know Montparnasse was a vet?" he muttered to the architect.

"He's a _vet_!?” Bossuet blanched, “Do you think he's in it to put down animals or steal pharmaceuticals?"

"Not sure we should speculate on camera."

Marius was ignoring them. The dog he had been petting had followed him over and he was now hugging it for comfort.

The energy in the room seemed to have dimmed a bit after Cosette left, though not by much. Grantaire glanced across the barn to see Enjolras staring at them, a little gray kitten in his arms. Grantaire waved him over, but the blonde’s eyes fell to the dog Marius was hugging.

“Hang on, I’m gonna grab Enjolras.” He crossed the room. “The doggie is very nice, if you want to come over.”

“No, that’s alright.”

“Come on, it’ll be fine, I promise. I will throw down my life to protect you in the event of a dog attack.” He placed a hand on the blonde’s shoulder and began guiding him over without protest.

“Cute kitty, E.” Bossuet said as they returned.

Enjolras ignored him, staring at the dog who was staring back at him. He refused to take another step, the kitten in his arms mewed at him.

“What’s up with him?” Bossuet asked.

“Fear of dogs,” Grantaire shrugged.

“I’m not afraid, I just don’t trust them not to attack me.” As far as Grantaire could tell, neither he nor the dog had blinked.

“You’re both doing fine so far.”

“I’m not getting any closer.”

“That’s fine.” He stepped forward to stand between Enjolras and the dog.

They talked for a bit longer, leaning over the edge of the pen to continue playing with the puppies. Enjolras remained uncomfortable, keeping Grantaire between himself and the dog and nearly jumping out of his skin when it barked and ran off through the barn door.

Sometime later, they were all called away for a short lunch where Montparnasse returned to them looking rather self-satisfied, though they did not see Cosette until she appeared at the end of their break, bizarrely having changed into a batman costume, though she was lacking the cowl. "Alright everyone, follow me!" She instructed, moving toward the far end of the barn. They followed her into a large room resembling a professional photo shop. At one end there were pull down screens with multiple different backgrounds and at the other, a large rack full of costumes next to a couple boxes.

"Everyone pick out a costume and await further instruction, there is a changing area this way." Bahorel announced, pointing to a series of curtained off stalls.

There was much excitement around this. Les Amis took the box at the far end of the room.

Bossuet held up a number of options. "So many choices."

"Too many," Grantaire agreed, sorting through the mess. He looked up to see what Bossuet was doing but caught sight of Enjolras stood leaning over Marius shoulder and peering into a costume box, absently scratching his sleepy kitten.

Without thinking, Grantaire lifted the cowboy hat that had somehow found its way into his hands and set it atop Enjolras pretty blond head. The lawyer glanced over at him in surprise and for a moment the image emanated such soft gay energy that Grantaire's brain short circuited. He hadn't ever realized Enjolras had moved until he stuffed the cowboy hat onto Grantaire's head, pushing the brim down over his face. He could hear Bossuet laughing at him as he set the hat aside.

"I think I'll be a knight." Marius decided heading off to change with a group of others, although half the guys weren’t bothering with privacy.

"I found one for Enjolras," Bossuet said pulling out a Napoleon Bonaparte costume.

Enjolras looked as though he wanted to hiss. “I refuse.”

"Oh, come on, Apollo. What would you rather be?”

“Anything else.”

“Please, Enjolras, do it for us,” Bossuet begged, “You would make my day.”

"Fine." He handed the kitten to Grantaire and stormed off.

Bossuet was giving Grantaire a look that he pointedly ignored. "So, what will you be?" the artist asked.

"I'm thinking a king. You?"

"Tinkerbell?” he pulled out a little green dress with pointed fairy wings, “I look pretty great in a dress. I'm afraid I might stretch it though."

"That costume looks stretched already, I say go for it." That was all the permission he needed as Grantaire handed the kitten off and shed his shirt, pulling the dress over his head. He spent a few minutes fiddling with the zipper before Enjolras returned in full costume, looking far too good.

"Bold choice," he noted, nodding his approval to Grantaire.

"Zip me up?" Grantaire grinned.

Enjolras took the zipper from him and attempted to pull it up. "Your chest is a bit too broad."

"Damn Hollywood and their unrealistic beauty standards." He tried to make himself as small as possible.

After a bit of struggling the dress was zipped. "There you are."

"I'm about to bust out. You all have to say nice things about me in the interviews to raise my confidence. This dress is trying to shame me."

"You look beautiful, R. That is a royal decree," Bossuet said dramatically, handing the kitten off to Enjolras and changing into his costume, crown already sitting atop his head.

"Thanks, your highness," he curtsied.

“Wow, you all look great,” Marius said upon his return, his own costume not of terrible quality.

“Nice to have you back, I was starting to think you had gotten tangled up in your costume.”

“It was just a little tight.”

“Woah is you,” Grantaire sighed as much as the dress would allow.

"Everyone,” Bahorel called, “if you do not already have one, go retrieve your baby animal.”

"I have a question" Grantaire raised his hand.

"Tinkerbell, yes?"

"Sorry, I saw that you have chickens outside. Could I have my picture taken with a chicken?"

“Can he?” Bahorel turned to the owner who laughed.

"Sure, just go grab one."

Grantaire jogged outside, returning shortly with a docile hen under his arm.

"Alright everyone, picture time,” their host clapped his hands.

They did the boys as the group then split into groups of ten with Cosette, then went on to do individuals.

Marius’ posed as a valiant knight carrying a puppy in his helmet at his side.

King Bossuet kicked back in a chair, expression very dignified, the mother dog sitting properly at his side and a puppy cradled in his arms like a baby.

Grantaire the fairy stood softly cradling his hen, kissing her head for his picture then letting her roost on his shoulder. She was even more photographic than he was.  

Unsurprisingly, Enjolras' photo took the cake by Grantaire’s standards. He stood there looking severe and intense in his uniform, hat tipped back on his head. His body language read “fight me” but he was cradling an armful of kittens so softly.  

The entire process took a few hours, but soon enough they were back on the bus, Grantaire seated beside Bossuet, who was giving him a measured look.

"You wanna talk about what happened back there?" he asked quietly.

"Where?"

"You put a cowboy hat on Enjolras head and then I think your brain stopped working for a minute. I was wondering if maybe you just had an intense cowboy kink but I don’t think that’s it."

Grantaire shook his head, "I don’t know what you're talking about. Cowboys are very sexy, I thank you not to tarnish my name by dismissing my kinks."

"Grantaire,” he sighed.

"I just-“ he huffed, “He’s very attractive and I’m trying to assure myself that he’s probably straight if he’s here so that I don’t make a complete fool of myself, I mean he’s most definitely out of my league anyway but he just looks so gay in a cowboy hat,” he rambled in a panicked whisper.

“Well, that’s definitely true. Are you-“

“I’m bi.”

“I fucking knew it. It does my heart good to find a fellow bisexual in the wild.”

"What are you guys whispering about?” Marius called to them. He looked uncomfortable and Enjolras was glaring at him.

“Why are you being glared at?” Grantaire shot back.

“Uh well-“

“He’s a Bonaparte apologist.”

“E, it’s been a hundred ninety some years, don’t bite his head off over some dead guy,” Grantaire scolded.

“Some dead guy!” Enjolras sputtered.

"Enjolras,” Bossuet warned, “leave Marius alone or I’m going to make you move seats."

“You sound like a disapproving parent,” Grantaire snickered.

“Don’t make me put you in time out.”

The rest of the ride passed swiftly as they returned to the mansion for a relatively early dinner of ordered pizza for all except, Enjolras who ate a microwave Indian meal. After they had all eaten there wasn’t much to do.

"Ugh, what are we supposed to do without entertainment?" Grantaire moaned. He and Bossuet were laying draped across opposite sides of a couch, Marius was sitting on the ground, still eating and Enjolras was sitting in an armchair, writing in a notebook and ignoring them.

"There's a pool,” Marius offered.

“Good call,” Bossuet said, sitting up, "Hey, E, we're going down to the pool if you'd like to come.”

"Perhaps,” he said, not looking up.

The three of them left to find their bathing suits. Outside there were already guys in the pool so they took the hot tub. Enjolras appeared soon after, though he hadn't changed.

"You're not getting in?" Grantaire pouted.

"No, but I'll stick my feet in." he rolled up his sweatpants and did just that.

“You’re no fun,” Grantaire looked up at him. "What are you writing?"

"I just have to get ideas out of my head before I can start thinking about other things."

“The struggles of having a working brain.”

“Are you implying that your brain does not work?”

“Perhaps.”

Just then he picked up on the conversation being had across the pool. Montparnasse was sitting with Claquesous, Babet and Gueulemer, bragging. “I got the first date card,” he boasted, “And all I had to do was look over a pregnant bitch. If I’d have known that I would have brought up dogs from the top.”

“She gave him the date card?” Marius asked in a small voice.

“The producers probably made her after he saved the dog’s life or whatever,” Grantaire said, “I wouldn’t worry about it. She’ll probably see what a dick he is and drop him.”

“But-“

“But nothing. It’s going to be fine.”

“Why do you think he’s here,” Bossuet asked suspiciously.

“Hm,” the artist took a moment, “Well, I think at least in part he wants to play a villain and therefore he’s going to get a lot of screen time. Aside from that, to gain fame, I guess? Or scam people once he has a base? He’s definitely not here for the right reasons.”

“Who is here for the right reasons?” Bossuet rolled his eyes, “Everyone has an ulterior motive, except maybe poor simple Marius.”

“I don’t know whether or not to be offended.”

“Don’t be, you are pure of heart.”

“What do you do for a living, Marius?” Grantaire asked.

“I teach elementary school, but the district I was in had to cut back on teachers, so I’m currently unemployed and uh homeless. My landlord kicked me out before I left.”

“What are they going to do when you end up on hometowns?” Grantaire wondered. In the third to last episode, the remaining contestants were flown out to their hometowns so that the Bachelorette could meet their families.

“I don’t know, I don’t talk to my family either, so I guess it would just be us wandering the streets like beggars.”

“Are you from Massachusetts like your cousin?”

“Yep.”

“I was in Boston a few months ago-“ Enjolras started.

“Apollo, if this is the start of a history lesson, I’m gonna stop you right there.”

“I- It’s not a-“

Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

“Fine, maybe it was.”

“There shall be no learning on the Bachelorette as long as I am here to stop it,” he proclaimed.

They talked well into the night before turning in.

After only a few hours of sleep Grantaire found that he could not rest. Abandoning the effort altogether, he grabbed his sketchbook and headed downstairs. According to the clock on the oven, it was only 5:30.

He heard a scuffle near the doorway he had just come through and jumped when someone entered the room. "Jesus, Apollo, you scared me. What are you doing up?"

Enjolras was still wearing the same sweatpants and shirt as before, looking as though he hadn’t even gone to bed. "Headache. Someone in my room snores."

"I hope whoever it is gets eliminated."

"What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep. So, I was going to do some drawing, but now I'm talking to you."

"I can leave you to it if you like."

"No, that's alright. I think I might sort through the cabinets, actually. See what the kitchen has stocked. I might make pancakes since we don’t have to go anywhere until the cocktail party tonight." In the morning Montparnasse had his date, so the rest of them were free from filming.

"You’re going to make pancakes or everyone?"

"Sure. Well, as many as I can handle making the batter for. How do pancakes sound to you?"

He shrugged, "I'm vegan."

"I don’t know why I'm surprised, you did take different meals than the rest of us. How long have you been vegan?"

"Oh, since I was a freshman in high school, I believe."

"I suppose it's pointless to ask if you miss eating non-vegan foods."

"I don’t."

"Well, then how do vegan pancakes sound?"

"Do you know how to make vegan pancakes?"

"No, but I bet I could convince Jehan to get me a recipe before he leaves this morning."

“That might work.”

There was an awkward pause where Grantaire struggled for something to say under Enjolras’ steady gaze.

“Well, I’m gonna go draw something now… You can come along… or stay here, I have no control over you.” He ducked away into the living room, taking a seat in one of the arm chairs.

Enjolras followed him, taking a seat on the couch and pulling out his notebook. Grantaire bit his lip to keep from saying anything stupid and began to doodle, gradually becoming more comfortable. When he finally looked up, Enjolras had fallen asleep, laying awkwardly on his side. Grantaire’s fingers itched to draw him, but the creepiness of that action would be too much so he forced his focus back on doodling until he heard a door creek open and he looked around to see Jehan step into the kitchen, waving as he caught sight of Grantaire.

"Hey, Jehan, I have a favor to ask."

"No special treatment R,” he warned, pulling out a jar of peanut butter and starting to prepare a sandwich.

"No, no. I just wanted to ask if you could find a vegan pancake recipe for me."

"Oh. Are you going to make Enjolras pancakes?"

"Well, I'm going to make everyone pancakes that wants them, Enjolras included."

"That's very considerate. As luck would have it, I have a little stockpile of vegan recipes, pancakes included, I'll print then off for you in a minute."

"Thanks."

He finished making his sandwich, poked about on his phone and left, returning with a sheet of paper.

"Here you are. And I think there should be fruit in the fridge. Those would go together nicely. Make sure to put lots of syrup on his pancakes."

"Okay?"

"Anyway, I’ll see you tonight."

“Bye.”

Grantaire returned to the living room feeling suddenly sleepy. Instead of going back upstairs, he grabbed a pillow and laid on the floor. He woke maybe an hour later when the first trickle of people started coming down for breakfast. He took this as a sign to start on the pancakes.

The first pancake was given to Babet as a test. He had been the only one in the kitchen at the time and Grantaire wanted to be sure he hadn’t fucked something up.

“How is it?” he asked.

Babet hummed, “Acceptable.”

“Acceptable?” Grantarie took a bite, and it was lovely, “Fuck off! It’s delicious, get out of my sight.” He waved the other man off.

“What are you doing?” Enjolras asked, having apparently awoken with the noise.  

He flopped two pancakes onto a plate, covered them in syrup and handed them to Enjolras. "Here you are, Apollo."

"Why did you put syrup on mine?"

"Jehan told me to."

He scowled. "Syrup is frivolous and unnecessary."

"Um okay? Do you not like syrup?"

"No, I like it."

"Uh, then shut the fuck up and enjoy it a little?"

"It’s the principal of it. I want to minimize my consumption as much as possible. Therefore-"

"Look, the syrup is already there so there's no use getting angry now. Do you have to make yourself miserable for every little cause?"

"I need to do as much as I can."

"You can't do much from here, can you?" said before he had time to think it through. The truth of that statement struck him a moment later. It seemed exceptionally strange that Enjolras would agree to take time out of the loop of normal life to do something so frivolous as be a reality tv star. Why the fuck was he here?

Enjolras gave a frustrated scowl. "Not much."

"Then relax for half a second and enjoy living. Time goes by too fucking quickly to get angry over a little syrup."

Enjolras continued to frown but took a bite of his pancakes.

"Good?"

"Yes, thank you."

"When everyone else comes in you are being put on blueberry duty."

Enjolras rolled his eyes and continued to eat.

Feuilly was the next to stumble into the kitchen.

"Feuilly! Would you like a vegan pancake?"

"Absolutely I would."

"And would you like that with blueberries?"

"Of course."

"Enjolras, get over here, your services are required."

"They’re right there,” Enjolras protested from across the table, “You do it."

"No, stop trying to be productive and get over here." he dragged the blond over to the stove. "Do you have any theme requests for your pancake?"

"Poland."

“Just… Poland?”

“Exactly.”

"Well, uh, I could make it strangely shaped."

"And I could make a P in blueberries."

"That sounds perfect."

"Are you on the group date?" Grantaire asked as he shaped the pancake.

"Nope, they already left. I'm hanging around here."

"On the lookout for drama?"

"Yep."

As time wore on, more people began funneling in.

"There you are, R," Bossuet sighed as he entered the kitchen, “I was worried when you weren’t in the room.”

"Here I am. Would you like some vegan pancakes? We have customizable blueberry designs brought to you by my lovely assistant."

"Make me a four-leaf clover, lovely assistant."

"You heard the man, Enj, I don’t pay you to sit around scribbling."

Enjolras gave him a withering look but reached around him to grab the blueberries. Grantaire grinned as he got very close. Enjolras gave a huff and complied with Bossuet’s wishes.

After that, Grantaire made the rest of the pancakes one after the other.

"Do you think we should go get Marius?” he asked, flipping the last pancake, “I'm sure he's terribly depressed."

Marius was, I fact, terribly depressed. When they sought out him out he was laying under a pile of blankets, moping.

"Hey, Marius, how's it going?" Bossuet asked.

He groaned in response.

"There are vegan pancakes downstairs,” Grantaire said, “Enjolras and I worked very hard on them."

"Not hungry."

"Hey, you wanna know what I think?" he said. When there was no response he continued. "I think the producers saw how well you two connected and told her she wasn’t allowed to have you on the first one on one."

"You think?"

"Yeah, I saw you two together yesterday. I think she really likes you. You just have to grit your teeth through this. sitting around being miserable isn't going to do much for you."

"I guess not."

"Come on then, up you get."

They sat Marius down and set a plate out in front of him.

"What are we going to do today?” Grantaire asked, “I honestly don't know what to do with myself."

"We could make Marius a thousand paper cranes,” Bossuet suggested, “He could wish for some common sense.”

“Hey!” Marius protested around a mouthful of pancakes.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow, "What would you wish for with a thousand paper cranes, Bossuet?"

"Oh… I don’t know."

"Really? Because it sounds like you have something in mind."

"Well... I guess I wish my doctor friend could relax a little. He has a habit of worrying himself sick."

"Your doctor friend is a hypochondriac?"

"Yep, and a germaphobe and a generally anxious person."

"And you would use your wish to sooth his anxiety?"

"Yes."

Grantaire frowned. "Very selfless of you."

"Well, it would also mean he wouldn’t panic call me at three in the morning."

"How do you think he's handling you being gone?"

"I don't know, he has someone else to lean on and he agreed that I should go, but I wish I could talk to him,” he sighed.

“I’m sure you’ll be seeing him soon enough.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean, asshole?” he laughed.

“Nothing! Ignore me. Enjolras, what would you use your wish for?"

Enjolras turned this question over gravely. "I wish people were more ready to stand for what they believe in."

"Even if their beliefs oppose yours?"

"If they oppose me, they are in for a fight that I do not plan to lose and I have morality on my side."

"Morals fall to nothing when it comes to blind faith."

"Then I wish I have the power to make people understand the stakes."

"What would you wish for, R?" Bossuet cut in.

"I'm on the bachelorette, my highest ambitions have been achieved. You are seeing me at my peak."

"And nothing would make this any better?"

"Well, if I had the ability to hack the universe that would be pretty cool. I could exact my rule. Everyone would have to wear medieval fantasy clothes at all times for my amusement and make movies appealing to my specific interests."

"Tyrant.”

"That's right, you'd better hope I never make those thousand cranes or I'm coming for you, Apollo."

“What would you have me do?”

“Tell me what a great ruler of the universe I was.”

“You would be a terrible ruler.”

“Blasphemy.”

Sometime later, Grantaire laid in the middle of the floor, listening to the others talk and fell asleep.

He woke to Montparnasse tripping over him. The others had gone, it was just the two of them.

"Ow,” Grantaire said sleepily, "Watch where you're walking."

"You're the one lying in the middle of the floor."

"You’ve got me there. How was your date?"

"Wonderful, thanks for asking,” he sneered, a rose pinned to his chest.

"What did you guys do?"

"We were sent to a petting zoo."

Grantaire snorted. "What sort of animals did you pet?"

"We spent a lot of time with the lamas.”

“Sounds very romantic.” Grantaire stifled his laughter.

“It was,” Monparnasse insisted, lifting himself to his feet and carrying on his way. “And you should probably start getting ready for the party,” he called back.

It did not take Grantaire very long to get ready and he soon found himself hanging around the pool with nearly all the other guys, glass of wine in hand. Cosette had just arrived and they were all waiting to see who would make the first move.

Marius was itching to leave but feeling too awkward to do anything about it.

Grantaire leaned over to whisper in his ear. "I'll grab her, and you can come interrupt us after some amount of time, yeah?"

"Okay,” Marius whispered.

Cosette was speaking with Bahorel when he found her.

“Hello, Cosette, mind if I sweep you away from this charming gent?”

“Oh if you must,” she allowed him to take her hand and lead her into the garden area.

“I have something for you,” he pulled out on of the paper cranes he had made earlier in the day.

“You're getting into the habit of bringing me treasures.”

"Twice is a coincidence, dear lady. But I may yet make it a habit, I love to see your face light up."

"Stop it! I'm blushing!”

“I doubt it will be the last crane you receive tonight, we got a bit bored shut away in the house while you were off petting lamas apparently.”

“That’s my privilege as the Bachelorette,” she grinned, “Oh, I wanted to say that you looked very dashing in your costume yesterday."

"Oh, thank you. You made for a very intimidating batman."

They talked about batman until Marius awkwardly edged into view.

Grantaire cast a glance his way. "Don’t look now but a challenger has appeared. Watch him nervously pace about, the poor soul. Should we take pity on him?"

"Yes, he looks a bit hopeless, doesn’t he." Cosette giggled.

"Marius, get over here!"

"I-I have a- this for you." he held out the crane awkwardly.

"It's lovely, thank you." She held it very gently.

Marius flushed.

"Well,” Grantaire said, clearly forgotten between the two of them, “I guess it's time for me to get back. Save Bossuet from Enjolras and all that."

"Thank you, R."

"No worries."

Grantaire was walking back inside but as he was taking the steps, he caught sight of a snail climbing the side of the house and stopped. He walked back down and around to see more snails at the base of the house, all apparently climbing upward. The sight was utterly transfixing. Where the fuck did they think they were going? He wasn’t sure how long he stood watching them progress when Enjolras appeared at his side.

“What are you doing?” he asked, looking from Grantaire to the snails.

“These fucking snails are scaling this wall and I cannot fathom why.”

“…Okay? I guess I’ll leave you to it.”

“Hang on, what are you doing, you’re not going to go steal Cosette from Marius, are you?”

“No, there was a fight, Cosette needs to come back and deal with the aftermath.

Grantaire was aghast, snails forgotten. “What the hell?! What happened? Give me details!”

“Two of the guys, started arguing about why the other was there and one punched the other, and they both ended up in the pool. It was all very stupid.”

“I can’t believe I missed it. I’m so upset.”

“Right, I’ll just be on my way then.”

When Grantaire reached the inside, there were two soaked men glaring at each other from two opposing sides of the room, Bahorel standing between them. Everyone else seemed to have gravitated to the side to watch them.

“Everyone out,” Cosette announced as she walked in.

“I can’t believe I missed a fight,” he muttered to Bossuet, “And we don’t even get to see the confrontation.”

Bahorel poked his head back in a few minutes later. “It seems we are cutting the evening short, it’s time for the rose ceremony.”

This ceremony was somewhat shorter, a mere three hours. With Bossuet accepting third, Enjolras accepting seventh, Grantaire accepting ninth and Marius accepting fifteenth. Three had been eliminated, the two brawlers included, and seventeen remained

Cosette left immediately afterward, clearly upset and the rest of the evening was devoted to interviews covering the past two days. Grantaire took his interview with Jehan by the pool.

“What do you think happened in the fight?”

“Literally, I have no idea but I’m not surprised they were booted, Cosette doesn’t seem the type to like that kind of aggression.”

“How are you feeling about your time with Cosette.”

“I value every second we have together.”

“How did you feel about the farm?”

“I loved the farm, now I want to get two dogs, a cat, and a dozen chickens. It probably wouldn’t last though, I’m city scum.”

“You had an interesting choice in costume.”

“I look great in a dress,” he gave his most charming of smiles.

“Who do you think had the best picture taken?”

“Enjolras,” he said without thinking and hoped that his face didn’t reveal his sudden panic.

“Why Enjolras?”

“Oh, the juxtaposition of his intensity and an armful of kittens is something I can appreciate… you know, as an artist. Plus, he’s very photogenic,” he laughed nervously, “Uh, that came out kind of weird, so I’m gonna stop talking now. Bye.”

“Well, you are free to go, R. Thank you very much.” Jehan’s smile was much too wide for his liking.

Grantaire gave him a long glare before heading back in for the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here have another chapter, I have no self-restraint and hate myself.
> 
> Also, let r wear dresses.
> 
> The idea of Montparnasse as a vet fills me with dread.
> 
> Marius is the most frustrating les mis character to me. I just want to shake him for being such a noodle but also I kind of adore him for being so hopeless. Also I don't ever seem to make r enough of an asshole, which is character assassination but I can’t help it.
> 
> Why did I start such a long story, im dead.
> 
> Thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disaster on the beach and r has an existential crisis.

The next day found everyone up early sporting swimsuits and packing a change of clothes as they drove off to some unknown location.

Breakfast had passed somewhat peacefully, though Bossuet had been oddly quiet and remained so as he sat next to Grantaire on the bus. Grantaire wondered if he wasn't getting homesick. If that was the case then he could always bow out. The artist was honestly surprised that Enjolras hadn't done the same. He was obviously annoyed with being shut away and unable to do anything productive and he didn't seem to be head over heels for Cosette. His being there remained an enigma.

Eventually, the busses pulled up to a small beach, devoid of any people. Cosette's vehicle had not yet arrived, so the men were left to mill about applying sunscreen and posturing. It was scorching hot even in the early morning, already shirts were being discarded.

"Marius, take your shirt off, you need to cover your back," Grantaire scolded, hands already covered in sunscreen.

Marius squirmed, "I think I might leave it on. I feel a little weird about being half naked on national television," he said, tugging at his tank top.

"That's perfectly fine," Grantaire soothed, "But you still need to get your shoulders and the easiest way to do that is taking off your shirt."

"Fine," Marius pulled the shirt over his head and allowed Grantaire to cover his pale, freckled back. Grantaire resisted the urge to make designs in sunscreen blotches.

He finished as Cosette's car pulled up, distracting Marius who mumbled a quick thanks, pulled his shirt over his head and wandered off, leaving Grantaire to awkwardly attempt to cover his own back.

"Do you require assistance?" Enjolras asked, appearing at his side.

"Uh, sure, thanks," he said, handing over the bottle of sunscreen.

Unfortunately, Enjolras was not among those who had removed their shirts. He instead had elected to wear a short sleeve swim top. He looked rather out of place in a sea of mostly shirtless men. Grantaire would not have pegged him for the self-conscious type, but perhaps that was better left unsaid.

The artist cringed as the cool sunscreen touched his back, Enjolras' fingers moving carefully across his shoulders. 

"I don’t have much of an eye for aesthetics, but I like your tattoos, I don’t think I said so before," the lawyer said, his hands skimmed along what Grantaire knew must be the outside of his wings. He had two pairs of wings tattooed across his back, one pair lifting at his shoulders and the other closed down his back and ending at his waist. They connected to an imitation of his spine which tapered from the back of his neck to his lower back.

"Uh thanks, my friend Eponine did them for me. She's there for all the places I can't reach." The words came out strangely, but he was having enough trouble thinking straight.

"She does her job well." His hands moved away as he handed the bottle back.

"Thanks." Grantaire hoped his face wasn't too red but a short distance away Bossuet was wiggling his eyebrows at him, so perhaps there wasn’t much hope for that.

"Alright everyone, let's move closer to the water," Bahorel instructed, having appeared beside Cosette who stood in a sky-blue beach cover.

The troop moved as instructed and there was a bit more milling about near the water's edge as the production team set up their equipment. In that time Gueulemer, the most ripped guy of the bunch and perhaps the dullest, had fixated on Enjolras.

"Aren't you going to take your shirt off?" he asked, squinting at the blond.

"No," Enjolras said sounding unbothered.

"Why not?"

"He's just leveling out the playing field, giving the rest of us a fair shot," Grantaire assured.

Enjolras blinked at him. “Are you implying that my naked torso is so dazzling that upon seeing it Cosette would immediately fall for me?”

“I might be.”

"Or maybe he’s afraid to show off a wicked farmer's tan," Bossuet added in a mock whisper, supporting a wicked farmers tan of his own as Bahorel came forward to split them up into groups, diverting their attention. Nine men, including Grantaire, Marius and Bossuet, were on the first half of the group date, and the other eight were told to go stand around over by the peer at the end of the beach to wait their turn.

“We’ve been split up,” Bossuet said mournfully looking over to Enjolras, “Enj will be all on his lonesome.”

"Oh, say you won’t go, Apollo,” Grantaire swooned dramatically.

"So long, Amis,” Enjolras said rather formally.

Grantaire felt an overwhelming urge to salute him and so he did. "Make us proud, soldier."

Absurdly, Enjolras nodded back at him before turning to leave with the others.

"Alright men,” Bahorel said, “Today you will be demonstrating your worth by making beautiful sand castles. You will be graded on your construction as well as your accessorizing with any precious objects you might find. We have supplies here,” he indicated a pile of buckets and shovels, “Take what you need and go forth, you have thirty-five minutes. Go!"

There was a rush as eight people struggled for the best sand castle building supplies. Grantaire came away with two different sized shovels and three different sized buckets.

"Whose shitty idea was this?" Grantaire muttered to Bossuet as the two of them scoped out the best sand castle building location in the area marked off for them.

“I dunno, I like building sand castles.”

They set up shop within a few feet of each other, Marius taking the other side of Bossuet.

Once his station was marked with an ‘R’ in the sand, Grantaire collected his buckets and began speed walking along the beach, collecting a number of interesting rocks, bits of seaweed, trash and shells. There were not many precious objects, but there were a lot of dead fish. It was not exactly a very glamorous location.

With a number of objects collected and twenty-five minutes to go, Grantaire began constructing his castle as a small city of smaller castles grouped together with towering dribble spires sticking up at strategically placed locations. 

He was constructing his second major tower, when he was overtaken by a shadow as Gueulemer tumbled down upon his castle, crushing it to dust.

"Dude, the fuck?" Grantaire exclaimed in shock. Gueulemer had been building beside him and in his fall had released a bucket full of water over his own now half washed away castle.

"Sorry!" he said leaping up, and looking down upon the destruction. His tone an expression indicated his regret but the sentiment didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"No problem," Grantaire sighed, not giving him the satisfaction of getting upset. He wasn’t sure whether or not this attack was done wholly on purpose or not. Perhaps it was in retaliation for his comment earlier or perhaps it was just an attempt to stir up drama. Either way, by that time there didn’t seem to be much point in continuing with the castle, there were only ten minutes left. Standing upon the crushed remains of his castle, he looked over Bossuet’s majestic palace and over to Marius who was constructing an ugly mess of a building.

"Good Sir Marius, mind if I lend you a hand?” he asked, “My castle has been destroyed."

Marius frowned. "Is that allowed?"

He shrugged, "I don't see anyone stopping me and if I were you, I would not pass up a pair of extra hands."

Their castle ended up a monstrosity of Marius’ poor craftsmanship and Grantaire's careful detail work. It shockingly wasn’t the worst of the bunch, being awarded fourth place overall.

Bossuet's was the best by far. "I like to build models," he shrugged when asked for comment after receiving a big hug from Cosette. “Maybe some of that skill transfers.”

Their group date completed, the first group were all banished to the peer, the second group heading toward them in the opposite direction.

Grantaire flipped Enjolras' ponytail as they passed him, earning a scowl in his direction.

"I wonder why he is wearing a swim top." Bossuet said, looking back over his shoulder at Enjolras' retreating form.

"I remind you we are being recorded. Any speculation may make its way onto the big screen."

“Do they make one-piece swimsuits for men?” Marius asked, “That was probably a dumb question, never mind.”

“Like a wetsuit or one of those old timey swimsuits like the founding fathers wore?” Grantaire asked, his mouth moving faster than his brain.

“I don’t think-“ Bossuet stopped himself, “Well I guess I don’t know what sort of swimsuits the founding fathers wore, but I think you mean those ones from like the 1920s or something—the unsexy ones.”

“I for one think Enjolras would make a very sexy founding father, swimsuit or not,” Grantaire grinned, “Found me-“

“R, if you say the word ‘daddy’ I will shove a fist full of sand down your throat.”

Grantaire raised his hands in surrender, staring down the peer before looking over to see what the other group was doing. It appeared they were flying kites.

“I bet they’re kite fighting,” Bossuet said, “That’s so much cooler than making sand castles.”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining, you won.”

“Yeah, but still.”

They watched for a few minutes before wandering out onto the peer. When they reached the end, Marius stared nervously down at the rocks. "I wonder if there are snakes out here?"

"I don't know but I found a tangled fishing line." Bossuet said, lifting the tangled thread, "There's still a hook attached." And the hook bore a little plastic worm.

"Let me untangle it." Grantaire spent a good few minutes working out the knots before crying out in triumph. "Looks like we're going fishing, lads!"

They carefully edged their way along the side of the peer. The path was buffered on both sides by a large series of rocks that were likely at water level when the tide was high but now were bare in the hot sun. The edge of the rocks cut off in a three-foot drop into the water below.

Grantaire stood at the edge and cast the line into the dark water.

"I feel like we should be singing pirate shanties or something," Bossuet mused.

"I can play the pirates of the Caribbean theme on the recorder," Marius said.

Grantaire found this utterly perplexing. "Why?"

He ducked his head. "I played the clarinet up through college and sometimes I just like to play the recorder."

"Did you bring your recorder with you?"

"Yes, I mean, it’s not _here_ here, but it's back at the house."

“Were you planning to serenade Cosette?” Bossuet laughed.

Grantaire brushed him off. "At some point you _have_ to have a recital. I want to year a recorder played as it was intended. I’ve only ever heard it screech.”

There was a tug at the line.

"Fish on!" Grantaire announced, pulling a small silvery fish out of the water. “Oh, it’s just a little thing.”

“We need a bucket,” Bossuet said, sizing up the fish, “I’ll be right back,” he clambered over to the main path and jogged back toward the abandoned supplies, presumably to retrieve said bucket. In the meantime, Grantaire blew a kiss at the captured fish and threw it back into the water.

“Give it a go, Marius,” he handed the line to the other man who cautiously took it.

“My grandfather used to take me fishing,” he said with a frown.

“I’m guessing by your expression that they were not grand outings.”

“Nah, my grandfather is a dick.”

“Marius! Language!!!” Grantaire gasped, “My ears are ringing. Precious souls like you weren’t meant to use swears.”

“He is though!” Marius protested, “He’s a dick and I’m pretty sure he hates me.”

“How could anyone hate you?” If anything, Marius was a bit too pathetic to warrant any hatred.

“You’d have to ask him. Oh, I think I’ve got one,” Marius said, tugging on the line. He pulled a slightly larger fish onto the peer.

“I have returned, Amis!” Bossuet announced, carrying a bucket full of water.

“Just in time! Marius got another one." Grantaire called over.

"Toss it on in!" Bossuet made his way over the rocks, he teetered a moment as he neared the edge.

“Careful!” Grantaire warned, “Let me come to you,” he started forward.

“I’ve got it,” Bossuet assured even as his next step was misplaced. Grantaire watched as if in slow motion as Bossuet, maybe six feet from him, slipped back and hit his head on the rocks before tumbling over the side of the peer and into the water.

The world seemed to have gone still. Without thinking, Grantaire jumped in after him. The water was shockingly cold as he dove down, seeking out the fallen man. After an eternally long moment in the darkness, he grabbed Bossuet by the arm and with great effort, lifted him to the surface.

He struggled to keep the two of them afloat. Bossuet was unconscious, blood leaking into the water around them. Grantaire had a moment of panic as he lost track of where he was going and how he was supposed to get them both onto land, it was a long swim back to the beach and Bossuet had likely inhaled some water.

"Over here!" Marius called frantically. A few feet along the peer’s edge there was a step ladder. Grantaire swam over as quickly as he could and Marius helped haul the architect back to the surface where a crowd was starting to gather.

Bossuet was laid flat on his back, not breathing and Grantaire set a relentless pace with chest compressions, calling upon an ancient memory of a job-related CPR training course he’d taken. After far too long, Bossuet jerked to life with a cough, releasing a lungful of water onto the concrete.

A siren blaring in the distance, someone on the crew must have called for an ambulance. Soon enough, Bossuet was being hauled away in a stretcher and Grantaire was back on the bus, sitting next to Enjolras, unsure of how exactly he had ended up there.

"Grantaire, are you okay?" the lawyer was asking, his expression clouded with concern.

He blinked. "Yeah, just- I hope he's alright."

"Me too. You probably just saved his life."

"I don't know what I did," he dismissed. "If anything, Marius deserves half the credit. We both might have drown if he hadn’t gotten my attention."

"Some credit maybe, but if Marius is to be believed, you were the first to react. That's very much worth something."

Grantaire shrugged in discomfort, staring off into space. Feeling slightly sick and not very much in the mood for conversation.

“Here,” Enjolras shifted to grab a bottle of water from his bag. Grantaire's eyes followed the motion, catching the jagged flash of a scar as his shirt sleeve stretched up over his bicep.

Enjolras caught him staring.

"Sorry." He looked away, feeling awkward and numb.

"It's alright." Enjolras said mildly, pushing down the sleeve and handing over the water. Grantaire took a small sip.

They didn't speak for the rest of the ride, Grantaire staring with determination out the window, seeing nothing and crushing the water bottle in his hands until Enjolras took it away from him. When they reached the house, he went up to his bed and buried himself in blankets, emotionally exhausted but incapable of sleep, all he could see was Bossuet smacking his head on the rocks and blood in the water.

What must have been hours later, the door opened and someone sat at his bedside, a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Enjolras framed by the light through the doorway.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"Fine," he sighed, "What's up?"

"I think they're going to let us know what the situation is with Bossuet. They want everyone downstairs."

He heaved himself up, blinking as he went light in the head. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, but he wasn't hungry.

Following Enjolras downstairs, they found Bahorel standing in the living room surrounded by cameras and looking serious. Grantaire took a seat beside Marius, squeezing them together in a loveseat as Enjolras stood behind them, bracing the back of the chair.

"Hello, everyone,” Bahorel said as he settled, “We are sorry to say that Bossuet will not be returning to the house. He's fine,” he assured, “He needed some stitches and has a moderate concussion, but he has decided to leave the show." A sigh swept over the contestants, though Grantaire's stomach was still knotted. “That’s all, you’re free to go.”

As Bahorel stepped aside, Jehan approached the chair where Les Amis sat.

"Hello, Jehan," Enjolras said, peering down at the producer curiously. There were still cameras on them, though a majority of the men had left the room.

"Hey, Enj, can you guys hang back a minute?"

"Of course." At this the remaining guys wandered off, casting glances over their shoulders.

"So, Bossuet wanted you all to have his number and said to get in contact with him once you're out again."

"Did you talk to him?" Grantaire asked.

"Yes, he wanted to personally let you know that he was okay, so I'm gonna call him, if that's alright.” He pulled out a phone and punched in a number, lifting it to his ear and speaking after a moment. "Hey, Bossuet, this is Jehan. I'm with Enjolras, Marius and R, I'm gonna put you on speaker phone.”

"Hey guys," Bossuet's voice came through sounding rough and sleepy.

"Are you really okay?" Grantaire asked, suddenly desperate.

"I'm fine, thanks to you. Jehan said you valiantly jumped in after me."

"I don't know about that."

"You saved my life."

"Marius helped."

"Thanks to both of you then," he laughed, "I mean it though, R, you saved me."

"And now you’ve abandoned us for the sweet embrace of some doctor somewhere."

He laughed, "I suppose I have. Joly convinced me that going back home was the best course of action for me." There was a smile on his voice. "When you guys get kicked off you should call me up. Keep in touch and all that."

"Once you join Les Amis there is no backing out, your soul is mine."

"Of course, how could I forget. Anyway, a nurse is telling me that it's time to hang up. I'll see you guys later. Have a good time. Enjolras, R, take good care of Marius. Marius, I'll be placing many bets on you winning."

"Don’t jinx me," Marius whispered.

They all said their goodbyes before Jehan ended the call.

"I'm so glad he's okay," Marius sighed.

"How are you all doing?" Jehan asked them.

"I don’t know about these two, but I feel fantastic,” Grantaire said miserably.

"Sure, R." Jehan said reaching over to tug at a loose curl.

“Ow.”

"He's fine, don't beat yourself up about it. Anyway, I've got to get back to spying on you guys."

"We'll try to keep it entertaining for you,” Enjolras promised.

"I appreciate it."

"Grantaire, could you come here for a moment?" Cosette stood in the door frame.

“Of course,” Grantaire lifted himself from Marius’ side, following her into the hall.

"So, it's been an eventful day,” she smiled wearily.

"Yes, it has."

"I wanted to give you this," she held out a rose, "you basically saved a life today. You deserve it."

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Honestly, I was just reacting in panic."

"Still, I would have wanted to give you this anyway, I like you a lot. And I wanted to ask if you would go on a one on one with me tomorrow."

"Of course," he smiled, though he could feel the stress in his face, "Nothing would make me happier. And after today I could use something to cheer me up."

She placed a hand at the side of his face and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"See you."

Grantaire reentered the living room twirling his rose. He slumped onto the couch, clasping the flower over his chest like a body on display for a wake.

"She gave you a rose?" Marius asked weakly.

"And I'm going on a one on one tomorrow morning."

"Do you think you'll be up for that?" Enjolras wondered.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he sighed.

* * *

Later in the evening, the crew threw a big fancy dinner to make up for the downer of a day. Grantaire drank more than he ate, not taking part in the conversation or bothering to listen. His racing thoughts wouldn't stop. 

Eventually, he slipped away from Enjolras and Marius, moving to the garden. He made an attempt at scribbling in his sketchbook, but it was all shit and his hands were shaking. He ran his fingers through his hair and took another gulp of wine, wishing to drown himself. Time melted away in a haze of alcohol.

"Grantaire." Enjolras had appeared, slightly blurry around the edges.

"Th'fuck d'you want?" he slurred.  

"You disappeared. Marius and I have been looking for you, we wanted to make sure you were alright. Clearly you aren't."

"M' fucking fine, jesus, what the fuck do you care?" His words were an incomprehensible jumble.

"I think you've had enough." He pulled away the bottle before Grantaire had the time to react.

"Don’t tell me how to live my life. If I wanna be a miserable bastard, I fuckin will. Get out of my face," he said, though his words were more pathetic than venomous. He laid down on the bench, pressing his forehead to the wood, wishing he could melt away into nothing.

Enjolras made an irritated sound, "I don't know why you're so upset about this, he's fine."

"Don't worry about it, 'm just bein' dramatic, 'll get over it."

"Obviously _something_ is bothering you."

"'S fine, don' worry 'bout it."

"No,” Enjolras protested, “I don’t understand, and I want to help, so I need you to explain it to me."

Grantaire looked up and even in his drunken haze he could feel the intensity behind the statement and felt compelled to comply.

"S'not fair." he managed.

"What's not?"

"Bossuet getting hurt. Not fair."

"So, what? He's fine. You insured that."

"S’not the fucking point! He shouldn't’a got hurt ‘n the first place. S’not fucking fair." He pulled at his hair.

“That's how the universe works. It doesn't have to be fair. You can drop dead at any moment."

"Exactly. Everything is so fucking pointless, it's oppressive. We're just tiny fucking specks in a universe that doesn’t care."

"Someone cares."

"You're not about to evangelize me, are you? If you start talking about religion, I will punch you in your fucking face."

"I was going to say that Marius cares, I assume your friend Eponine cares, I care. That doesn't make it entirely pointless, I hope."

Grantaire squinted at him. “Eponine doesn’t know Bossuet.”

“I was listing people who care about you, but if Eponine knows you then I imagine if she knew you cared for Bossuet, she would care for him also.”

Grantaire made an anguished noise, he desperately wanted to protest the comfort, tears of frustration fighting to spill down his face. He ran a hand aggressively through his hair. "’M too fuckin’ drunk for this. I thought you were gonna start talkin’ ‘bout god."

"God," Enjolras turned his face. "Any being that declares them self god is undeserving of respect."

"Speak truth, Apollo."

"Why do you insist on calling me that?"

"You burn like the sun,” Grantaire declared drunkenly, “And I’d like to think your visions of the future are prophetic."

When Grantaire looked at him, Enjolras appeared puzzled but he shook his head and did not press further. "Let's get you back to the house."

"Can't you just let me drink myself to death?"

"No, you have to be up early to go see Cosette."

“What’s she gonna care? She just wants t’ hang out with Marius.”

“So, you want her to have a bad time tomorrow?”

“…No.”

“Then let’s go.”

He made a weak sound as Enjolras hauled him up, guiding him back to the house and up to bed. In the hall before his room, Marius ran into them.

“You found him,” he sounded relieved, “Where was he?”

“Hiding out in the garden trying to drink himself numb.”

“And I would’a gotten away with it too,” he slurred.

“R,” Marius voice strained and he stepped forward, offering a hug at which point Grantaire burst into tears, not entirely sure why he was crying. It was a few minutes before he got himself together enough to stop. He clung to Marius as Enjolras awkwardly stood beside them, presumably unsure of what to do.

When they finally got him to bed, Marius poked him in the forehead. "Sleep,” he instructed.

"I don't wanna sleep." It must still have been early because nobody else was in the room.

"Grantaire," Enjolras insisted.

"Fine, but you have to promise me good dreams,” Grantaire pouted.

He imagined he could see Enjolras frown in the darkness. “I can promise no such thing.”

“ _I_ promise,” Marius said.

“I appreciate your lies,” Grantaire sighed, allowing his eyes to fall closed.

When he drifted to sleep, he dreamed he was trapped in an endless, heavy expanse of nothing. Completely alone in a cold empty void.

* * *

Feuilly woke him before the rest and told him to grab a swimsuit. His head killed but he felt generally better than he had the night before.

Enjolras was sitting in the living room when he entered the kitchen, he approached as Grantaire spread cream cheese on a bagel.

"Good morning," the blond said leaning against the counter beside him.

"You don't sleep enough, E," Grantaire sighed, "Sorry I was such a mess last night. Thanks for... Well, just thanks."

"No problem. I'm glad to see you doing better."

He shrugged, “Sometimes the weight of the universe attempts to crush me to death, I do my best not to let it follow through but... Anyway, you should head off to bed. Have you even slept at all?"

"A bit."

"You're worse than me,” he waved his hand, “Off with you. Take good care of Marius while I'm away. Don't let him hate me too much."

Enjolras clasped him on the shoulder. "See you later."

Grantaire was hauled off to a lake rather than a beach. Cosette was waiting for him next to a motor boat.

"Hey! It's good to see you," she hugged him.

"Good to see you too. How are you holding up after everything?"

"I'm just glad Bossuet is okay. But I should be asking you that, you’re the one who saw it happen."

"Oh, I'm doing alright,” he said lightly, “So, what are we doing here?"

"Well, I hope you aren't afraid of high speeds because we are going tubing." She handed him a life vest.

"Bring it on."

Feuilly drove them out into the middle of the lake and set down the flat innertube in the water.

"Ladies first," Grantaire helped her onto the tube as she grabbed two of the handles then climbed on after her, their left and right arm crossing. Feuilly let them drift for a moment.

"Ugh, that bastard. The tension is killing me," Grantaire laughed.

"Hang on," Cosette warned as the tube gave a jerk and suddenly, they were speeding over waves.

Cosette, it seemed, had more nerve than he did. She was positively delighted every time they tipped dangerously. Not that Grantaire didn’t enjoy his time, but Cosette was thriving on the adrenaline.

They went time after time, tipping spectacularly thrice. When Grantaire's hands were stiff from holding on so tightly, they were pulled back in. There after they challenged Feuilly to a flipping contest, jumping over the side of the ship.

Despite the seriousness of the day before, Grantaire had an amazing time.

When they were driven back to shore, they were set out in front of an array of food and told to talk and not eat anything. The food was meant to give the appearance of a date, purely for a TV audience. Grantaire always found this part of the show the most clunky. Because the contestants were given so little time with their person, when they had a moment alone, they were forced exposit all their deep secrets.

"How long have you been doing tattoos?" she asked, likely having been told by the producers what to start with to get a deep response.

"Well, I started practicing out of high school. Didn't have much of a plan, parents kicked me out my senior year."

"Oh, that's awful, I'm sorry."

He shrugged, "In their defense I was kind of a handful." He’d spent most of his off time drunk or high.

"That doesn't make kicking you out the right thing to do. Where did you go?"

"I stayed with my friend, Eponine. Her parents were pretty absent, so I don't even think they knew I was there. The two of us hung around practicing tattoos and now, years later, she's my boss."

"Wow."

"Yeah, she's like the irritating sister that still talks to me,” he snorted.

"I was alone most of my childhood. Just me and my dad."

"I think I would have lost it if I was stuck with only my dad. But you seem like you and your dad get on well."

"My father has given me everything I could ever ask for. He's a good man and I hope that he's made me into a good person.”

"I know he has," Grantaire smiled.

Cosette smiled back, placing a hand on top of his. "Thank you."

They chatted a bit more before a member of the production team said it was time to say their goodbyes, at which point they stood.

"Thank you for a wonderful day, it was the best date I've had in far too long,” Grantaire said, that was true enough, he enjoyed hanging out with Cosette.

"Get over here," she pulled him forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him.

“Careful, I might swoon."

"Shut up," she pulled back, all smiles.

"I mean it though, I had a great time."

"Me too, let's do it again sometime."

He took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "Let's do."

"I'll see you later tonight," she winked.

* * *

Marius was anxiously pacing when Grantaire returned from his date, Enjolras sitting at the table beside him, writing something in his notebook.

"How was it?" Marius' voice broke with anxiety.

"We went tubing and it was really fun."

"That's good...." he grimaced.

Grantaire let out a short laugh, "Marius chill."

"You must have faith that your link with Cosette will be stronger in the end." Enjolras said.

"Wise words, oh great and mighty Apollo. You are not threatened by me then?"

"No, I don't think you are trying your hardest, given you think you know the winner already."

"Sure, I think Marius will win her heart, but perhaps I will make it my mission to stay longer than you."

"Well, I don't plan on going home just yet."

"Good, Les Amis can’t afford to lose another member. So, what have you guys been doing in my absence?”

“Marius has been worrying.”

“Enjolras has been writing.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Enjolras huffed, “You wouldn’t focus for long enough to carry out a conversation.”

“What have you been writing?” Grantaire asked, leaning over the back of his chair to look down upon Enjolras’ work. “What the fuck?” he grabbed the notebook and lifted it for closer inspection. Inside the blue lines of the paper, Enjolras handwriting was small and neat and most definitely not in any recognizable language. “Are you writing in code?” Grantaire asked incredulously.

Enjolras snatched the notebook back. “Yes.”

“Alright, why are you writing in code?”

“In case someone tries to steal my notebook.”

“What the fuck are you writing that you have to keep so carefully guarded?”

“Just my thoughts, I just feel more secure knowing that no one else can read them.”

“So, you made up your own special language?”

“Yes.”

“That’s so nerdy.”

“I think it’s cool,” Marius said.

“Oh, it is undoubtably cool, but it’s also very dorky.”

“Could you write out our names?”

“Careful, Marius, he might think you’re trying to steal his secrets,” Grantaire warned.

They spent a good deal of time forcing Enjolras to write out sentences for them in his weird little language.

“Apollo, I feel like this is shockingly creative for you.”

“Well, I can’t take all the credit, it was developed among myself and my friends, one of whom is an artistically creative person.”

“Ah, that explains it. Still, I’m quite impressed.”

“Thank you, I guess. I think we should probably be getting ready now.” The cocktail party was due to start in the next hour.

“Right you are.”

* * *

At the party Marius was the first to seek out Cosette.

"Just you and me looking out for him now,” Grantaire mused from his place beside Enjolras.

"Is that what we're doing?"

"It's what I'm doing. I have no idea what you're doing. What _are_ you doing? Here, I mean."

Enjolras shrugged, "I forgot to ask before, how do you know Jehan?"

"Wow, fine, just completely dodge my question. What makes you think I know him?"

"The way he talks to you."

"I did a tattoo for him, he's the one who got me to audition. Do you know him? I guess he did tell me to syrup up your pancakes..."

"He's friends with my friend Courfeyrac, they worked together on another show before he moved out to Cleveland. They're the ones who plotted to put me here."

"Small world. Hang on, did you see him when he was up in Cleveland a few months ago?"

"Yes."

"Then he went straight from convincing you to convincing me. Do you think he plotted to get other people on or just us?"

"I'm not sure."

"I wonder if he thought we would add drama."

"You think we've been set up?"

"I'm just saying it's suspicious that we both ended up here, being friends with him."

"Well, I hope he's getting what he was looking for."

“I guess we’ll see in a few months. I don’t plan on making any dramatic scenes but I won’t discount the possibility.”

Cosette and Marius approached them.

"Greetings, Cosette. What brings you around these parts?"

"Just wanted to see how you lot were holding up,” she said, one arm wrapped around Marius’ waist, “And maybe avoiding talking to some people," she laughed awkwardly.

"We are glad to cover for you," Enjolras said smoothly. His posture had shifted somewhat. He looked more open. Grantaire wondered if it was real or an act.

"What do you do in your free time Cosette?" Enjolras asked.

Grantaire watched carefully as the conversation played out. Enjolras was gentle with her. Not quite flirting but his disposition was soft and charming.

Eventually, Cosette was called away by Babet.

“I can see why she keeps you around,” Grantaire said as Marius stared sadly after her.

“Why’s that?”

“You can be very charming when you’re not being intimidating.”

“Can I?”

“’Oh Cosette, tell me about yourself, I find you endlessly fascinating’,” he mimicked, leaning forward.

Enjolras made a face. “I don’t sound like that.”

“No, you but you _ooze_ charisma.”

“You’re both very charismatic.” Marius said, “In different sorts of ways.”

Grantaire took his hand and kissed it obnoxiously, “Thank you, sweet prince.”

Marius made a pained face, which sent Grantaire into a fit of laughter. “Don’t worry, Marius, you aren’t my type.”

“Good,” Enjolras said, “Bossuet has money riding on his winning Cosette’s heart.”

“But what if I want to sabotage Bossuet’s bets?” he whined.

"The man is in the hospital, R," Marius smiled, "he deserves a win."

* * *

The rose ceremony was much more pleasant when Grantaire didn't have to be a part of it. He went straight to his interview while the others were lined up.

"So, your sandcastle was crushed,” Jehan prompted.

"I forgot about that,” Grantaire laughed, “It feels like it happened a world away."

"We can’t use that, R."

He shrugged, "I just joined up with Marius, it was fine. Gueulemer better watch his ass though, just saying."

"Could you explain what happened with Bossuet?"

"I watched him slip and I jumped in after him. I don't really know what happened after that, I’m traumatized, and I don’t really want to think about it,” he said lightly, “I'm just so glad he's okay."

"How do you feel about his leaving?"

"I think Bossuet leaving was probably the right choice, given the concussion and all. But I'm sad to see him go. I'll absolutely be catching up with him once I leave."

"You took everything pretty hard."

"Yeah, I just- I don't like to see the people I care about hurt."

"On a lighter note, how was your date?"

"My date was really great. Cosette is amazing. I feel like we really connected.”

"Starting to feel the tension with the other contestants yet?"

"I’ve been a bit distracted."

Post interview, he went to seek out the snails from two days before, but found they were gone. That was mildly disappointing. He hoped they got where ever they were headed.

It was not long before he was rejoined by Enjolras and Marius.

Fourteen contestants remained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bossuet was supposed to go in ch 2 but then I liked having him around too much.
> 
> This is such a rushed job, I’m just excited about the next one but I enjoy traumatizing r
> 
> Thanks.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olympic trials and e suggests an ingenious ploy for more screen time.

Grantaire shivered slightly, it was a cool morning after days of heat. The contestants were standing around a high school track, an obstacle course set up across the football field. Enjolras was looking especially irritated after having woken with a headache and Marius was looking apprehensively to Cosette, who stood beside their noble host.

"Hello all,” announced Bahorel, “Today you will be participating in a series of Olympic style events, of which there will be four."

"Question," Grantaire raised a hand.

"Yes, R?"

"If these are Olympic events, then why are we not taking our clothes off. I have an appreciation for the ancient Greeks and an anti-clothes agenda. Let us do sports in the nude, you cowards."

"We don't want to subject the editors to that,” Bahorel laughed.

"Fool, the editors would love it."

"Clothes remain on everyone! Anyway, the first event will be a long jump, you get two tries and ten people will move on."

“May the best man win,” chirped Cosette before they were moved to the long jump pit.

Grantaire wasn't especially confident in his jumping skills, but he ended up leaping the fifth farthest. Enjolras was in second, Marius was eighth with hilariously terrible form. What this meant for their romantic potential was unknown, unless Cosette had a thing for men who could leap.

“All those who are not moving on are banished to running the outside ring,” Bahorel announced, sending Grantaire back to years of walking laps in gym class. "Next event! We have the 400-meter dash. Everyone proceeded to the starting line."

At the line they were not staggered, instead standing shoulder to shoulder. Cosette appeared with a gun in hand, as if they were having a real race.

“On your mark, get set.” She pulled the trigger, initiating a mad dash around the track. Enjolras quickly taking the lead, Montparnasse on his tail. The two of them had finished while Grantaire was on the last quarter in fourth place. He sprinted across the finish line winded but not having killed himself over the effort. A few moments later Marius barely edged in sixth place in front of Babet.  

They were given a moment to catch their breath.

“I don’t think I can make it much further,” Marius huffed.

"You could always drop out now, Pontmarcy," Montparnasse grinned in a clear effort to upset him.

“Don’t listen to him, Marius,” Grantaire said, “You are going to make it through the next round,” he said, though he wasn’t sure he really believed it.

"You willing to bet on that?" Montparnesse asked smugly.  

A bet was a terrible idea but the insufferable look on Montparnasse’s face was too much. "Sure, in fact I'm willing to bet he finishes ahead of you." He wasn’t sure why he said it, but he instantly wished he could take it back.

"Yeah right, like that noodle could beat me at anything."

"R!" Marius squeaked in horror.

“Hush,” Grantaire waved him off.

"What will you give me when I win?"

"Can't it just be a gentlemen's bet?"

"No, although I will beat him anyway."

"Uh, I'll give you a free tattoo?" A teeny tiny tattoo.

"I'll accept a free tattoo."

"What do I get for winning?"

"I'll promote your business to my many numerous Instagram followers."

"Fair enough." They shook on it.

“On to the obstacle course, everyone,” Bahorel waved them onto the field. The obstacle course consisted of a series of hurdles, a rope climbing wall, a series of tires to step through, a long tube to crawl through, and a sprint to the finish. Six lanes were set, one for each of them. Grantaire was on the end next to Marius who was next to Montparnasse. This time, Grantaire felt the tension as the gun went off and the men sprinted forward. Grantaire took care to stay in line with Marius who appeared to be trying his very best. Montparnasse was ahead of them, leaping through the tires when he took a tumble, swearing loudly. Grantaire thanked whatever malicious spirit had conjured that fall and looked forward to watching it back when the season was released. By the time Montparnasse had righted himself, Marius had caught up with him, exiting into the final sprint. Halfway across the expanse Montparnasse was beginning to overtake him, at which point Grantaire kicked it into high gear, pelting toward Marius, grabbing him around the waist, and lunging a few steps before flinging him over the finish. Marius stumbled in a few seconds before Montparnasse, in third place overall.

Grantaire himself fell across the finish, rolling out of the path of the other contestants, laughing at the look of absolute contempt Montparnasse had adopted.

"Cheater,” he accused, standing over the artist, “Our agreement is void."

"Fine,” he gasped, “It was worth it." He gave another breathy laugh as Montparnasse stormed away. He let his eyes fall closed before opening them again as he was eclypsed in shade.

"Are you alright?" Enjolras stood above him, blocking out the sun.

"No, I'm dead,” Grantaire sighed, “You must be an angel."

"Not quite."

"A demon then."

“I believe you are meant to be banished at the moment.”

“Definitely a demon. Are you moving on? I wasn’t watching.”

“I am-“

“Everyone, follow me!” Bahorel called, waving the group toward the far end of the track where a gate lay open to a wide field.

“Help me up?” Grantaire asked, raising a hand. Enjolras pulled him to his feet where he was immediately hugged by Marius.

“Thank you, R,” he huffed, still red faced and out of breath.

“No problem, kid.”

Bahorel stood beside Cosette who held six javelin poles in her arms. She handed two poles to each of the final three contestants: Enjolras, Gueulemer, and Marius, each receiving a different colored set.

“Alright, men, you get two shots to throw that thing as far as humanly possible for the win. You cannot cross this line, here.” He indicated a white line spray painted onto the grass. “Who would like to go first?”

Gueulemer stepped forward, “I will go,” he said confidently, setting one of the spears aside. The group backed away as he stood back from the line. There was a moment of stillness before he broke into a sprint, flinging the spear before flailing across the line with the force of his throw. His technique lacked grace but he sent the javelin soaring. The distance appeared impressive, though Grantaire had no concept of what was impressive in the world of javelin throwing. The second throw flew even farther than the first and Gueulemer walked away content.

“Next?” Bahorel asked.

“I’ll go,” Marius said, putting on a brave face, though he looked quite pale. Grantaire felt suddenly very bad for putting him in the spotlight like this.

“May the winds guide his throw,” Grantaire muttered under his breath as Marius took his running throw. Remarkably, he looked less awkward throwing than Gueulemer but his javelin went only half the distance, his second went no further.

Grantaire clasped him on the shoulder as he returned. “Good show.”

Marius made a pathetic sound in return.

Grantaire looked up to see Cosette watching them, instead of Enjolras who had stepped forward to give his throw. Grantaire gave her a smile and a shake of his head before turning his attention to the terrifying lawyer reading his throw.

Enjolras looked downright dangerous with a javelin in hand. He was staring down the field with a look of unrivaled intensity, as if imagining some malicious beast as his target. He took a deep breath before breaking into a sprint, his body moving with remarkable fluidity as he hurled the javelin across the field where it stuck down at least two meters beyond Gueulemer’s farthest throw.

"Fuck," Grantaire clutched his chest in anguish. Damn him for looking so god damn gorgeous.

"What?" Marius asked in alarm

"Don't worry about it."

“It looks like we have a winner,” Bahorel raised Enjolras’ arm in triumph. The others all clapped good naturedly, Grantaire and Marius clapping louder than the rest, Grantaire obnoxiously so.

Enjolras was awarded a kiss on the cheek for his win and they were all dismissed for lunch.

"Holy shit, E,” Grantaire said as they approached the blond, “Where do you keep all that power in your little twink body?"

"I work out to burn off my anger," he deadpanned.

"You terrify me.”

"I excel at sports."

"I can see that,” Grantaire laughed, “I bet I could out box you though, I'm a decent boxer. Half decent wrestler." He tried desperately not to think about wrestling Enjolras, especially not in the historic context. Oiled up and covered in dirt. Those were dreadfully unproductive thoughts.

"I can hold my own in a fight,” Enjolras protested.

"I don’t doubt it, but I'm a bit more solid than you are."

"We could test it if you like."

"Nah, I couldn't risk messing up that pretty face of yours."

As they approached the food table Marius was called away by Cosette.

"That must be the date card," Grantaire observed. They're finally letting her go through with it."

“Why make her wait?” Enjolras asked.

“To give the illusion that she may be falling for one of the rest of us.”

Marius returned with a date and a massive grin. Lunch passed quickly and they were loaded back onto the bus returning to the mansion.

The three of them spent the next few hours lying about, as Marius gushed hopelessly over Cosette. Grantaire was very glad that his date was scheduled for that night because by the time the teacher was set to get ready he was driving both him and Enjolras insane. In fact, Enjolras had to be banished to the other side of the room while Marius was getting ready after making a few too many snippy comments.

"What do you think they'll have us do?" Marius asked, fretting over his clothes.

"Not a petting zoo or tubing. Maybe you'll go see fireworks or something since you're going out at night,” Grantaire suggested.

"I hope it's not anything too involved, I just want to talk to her."

"You'll be fine. Stop fiddling with your jacket, you look very handsome. Enjolras, back me up."

"Very handsome," Enjolras echoed.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. "You're not even looking."

Enjolras looked up at him from his notebook. "Very handsome," he repeated.

"Flatterer. I meant him not me."

"You're both very handsome,” he grimaced.

"You good, Apollo?"

"Fine, headache,” he closed his notebook and set it aside, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest.

Grantaire sighed, "Ready to go, Marius?"

“No.”

“You’ll be fine,” Grantaire placed his hands on Marius’ shoulders and started pushing him out of the room. Enjolras followed them downstairs where the team was ready to go.

"Go get her,” the artist said, giving him one last push. “Apollo, wish him luck.”

“He doesn’t need luck.”

“Good enough. See you later, Marius.” Grantaire said feeling a bit like a parent sending his child off to school for the first time.

“Bye guys,” he said meekly.

Then it was just Grantaire and Enjolras alone for the evening. The silence between them felt heavy without Marius there as a buffer.

Grantaire yawned, wincing as his sore muscles stretched. "Ugh, are you as sore as I am?"

"Possibly,” Enjolras said, though he gave no indication that he actually was.

"I want to take a long bath."

"There's a large bath around the back half of the house."

“What were you doing back there?” For the most part everyone stuck to the front area.

“Sometimes I explore when I can’t sleep.”

“Well, I can’t fault you that. Lead on, Apollo."

The bath was large. large enough to fit at least three comfortably. Grantaire darted for the cabinet under the sink in search of soap.

"They have bubbles!” he exclaimed, “Want to take a bath with me?"

"Sorry?"

Grantaire looked over at him, luckily the blond appeared more confused than alarmed. "We can wear swim suits and keep the door open."

"Why keep the door open?"

"I thought that might make it seem less gay?"

"Would it though?"

"Maybe not. We'll keep the door shut. Go get your swim stuff." He turned on the tap and poured in the bubbles before leaving to find his own swimsuit.

They rejoined having changed pants. Grantaire tossed aside his shirt and stepped into the overly bubbly water, full wineglass in hand.

Enjolras appeared to deliberate before getting in, his hands at the hem of his shirt. He wasn't wearing a swim top.

"You can leave it on if you like." Grantaire said, settling back in the bubbles.

"No, so long as it’s just us; no cameras, no mics.” The bathroom was their one refuge from the constant surveillance. Enjolras removed the shirt to reveal a scarred mess of skin webbing across his torso and over his left shoulder. Grantaire tried his best not to stare.

"It's alright to ask,” the lawyer said, stepping into the tub, seating himself across from Grantaire. The tub was large enough that their legs did not brush. “I just didn't really want it broadcast across all of the US."

"Sorry, what happened?"

Enjolras heaved a heavy sigh, staring up at the ceiling and leaning his head against the lip of the tub. "It was four years ago, I had just passed the Bar, my mother was driving me to lunch and we were hit from the side by a distracted driver,” his voice was unwavering as he spoke with a detached affect, “The car flipped, my mother and the driver died on impact. As for me, the fuel system ruptured, starting a fire in the vehicle where I was trapped and unconscious, which is how this happened,” he motioned over his chest. “Luckily the emergency response was fairly rapid, but I was dead for nearly fifteen minutes."

Grantaire's stomach twisted. "Fuck, that's crazy. Something like that must alter your entire world view."

"It changed everything." he turned his gaze to Grantaire. "But it made me who I am and I'm glad to be here now."

"What about your father?"

"Died of sarcoma when I was twelve. I was on my own family-wise, but I still had my friends."

"Well, I think you take the cake for tragic backstories. You know they're going to want you to talk about it right?"

"I'm sure that if I get a one on one they'll have her ask me about any life changing events I've had. I'm fine talking about it, if nothing else it's good for distracted driving awareness. It's just that showing the scars feels intimate. I'm not ashamed of them, it’s just too personal."

"You’re sure you want to tell the whole country? That's a heavy thing to talk about."

"I think so, although I'm slightly worried about how my reaction will be interpreted. I'm afraid I don't have any tears left to cry, which may seem a bit heartless."

"We all deal with trauma differently. I’m… I’m glad you were comfortable sharing with me."

"I don’t mind, you seem like a good person."

"Well, I don’t know about that, but…” he paused, “If you don’t mind my asking—and feel free to tell me to fuck off— but what was it like to be dead?"

Enjolras stilled, his eyes far away. "Dark and frightening."

"That’s comforting. I thought most people found peace or a bright light or something."

"I did not,” he grimaced, “it was terrifying and I wasn’t ready to go.”

"Of course not, you still have so much to do."

“And now I get a second chance to make the world a better place."

Grantaire frowned, “Were you not trying to do that before?”

“I was, but believe it or not, I was quite painfully shy unless engaged in an argument. I wanted the world to change but my own anxieties were holding me back.”

“You were still trying to be a lawyer,” Grantaire pointed out.

“I was hoping to find my nerve somewhere along the way,” he smiled, “And I guess I did, just not how I expected to.” He stared down into the bubbles.

 “Tell me about your perfect world,” Grantaire prompted.

Enjolras looked up at him. “My policies, or what I would generally want in a perfect world?”

“What you would want in a perfect world.”

“I want people to understand that no one is inherently better than anyone else. Your worth should be decided by your actions, not by who you are in a physical sense. I’m told that’s an unachievable goal, but I’d rather fight and die for a world like that then do nothing and become a part of the flawed system we have now.”

"Fuck, Enjolras,” Grantaire breathed, “Why the hell are you here?"

He gave a small smile. "As a joke, I suppose, or perhaps a scheme is more accurate. I've never been especially romantically inclined, my friend Courfeyrac told me to treat it as an ‘observation in human mating behaviors’. He thinks I need to understand people better on an emotional level."

"And you went along with this? You agreed to take some undetermined amount of time off work for _this_?"

"I have...” he hesitated, “A tendency to overwork and as a side effect, a few months ago my health started to suffer. So, I made a deal that I would take off a large amount of time to do something that involved zero work. And that brought me here where I am physically unable to do anything."

"You are-” Grantaire shook his head. “I don’t even know what you are, but I'm glad you came anyway. I’m glad I got to meet you."

"As am I,” Enjolras said, “Most people are too intimidated to challenge my ideas."

"I'm just an idiot who can’t keep his mouth shut."

Enjolras opened his mouth, but there was a knock at the door. Grantaire reached across the tub and placed a hand over Enjolras' mouth.

"Yes?" he called.

"Grantaire?” Montparnasse’s voice was muffled through the door, “Have you seen Enjolras? the crew wants him for something."

"Bullshit," Grantaire hissed, "they know you're in here. I bet they have cameras waiting. Shall we let them in or let them imply whatever they like through the magic of editing?"

"I say let them in." Enjolras said, as he slumped down into the bubbles to cover his chest.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Alright then,” he raised his voice, “Cut the crap, Montparnasse, you and I both know he's in here, so you might as well come in."

"Hello, all." Grantaire tipped his wine glass as the door opened.

"What do they want me for?" Enjolras asked stiffly.

"If you're busy it can wait,” Montparnasse assured, “Jehan will find you later. You two look very comfortable,” he noted. Behind him Feuilly was hovering with a camera.

"I’d ask if you'd like to join, but I don't think we have the room,” Grantaire said sweetly.

"You know, that's alright. I don’t want to get in the way of your alone time. Sorry to disturb you."

"Bye,” Grantaire waved for the camera, dropping his hand as soon as the door was shut. "They are going to make this look as gay as possible. They love to play up the homoeroticism."

"Seems like a good way to get extra screen time," Enjolras mused.

"Are you suggesting something?" he snorted.

"I might be. If you don't mind the implication."

"If _I_ don't mind?" Grantaire sputtered, "Are you serious?"

Enjolras appeared to deliberate. "Yes,” he decided.

“You realize this will haunt you if you ever want to have a political career, right?”

“Are you planning to humiliate me?”

“No but, I’m just saying things might get messy in the court of public opinion.”

“I’ll take that risk.”

“ _Why_?”

“It would give you more screen time and allow me another dynamic to observe.”

"Well I guess, if your sure,” Grantaire said, though he felt unpleasantly like a science experiment, “But for full transparency sake, I am bi as hell."

"I don't mind."

"Alright, then, what are the parameters? What are the rules of engagement?

"You're probably better suited to arrange this than I am."

"Well, calling upon my knowledge of past pseudo gay on-screen reality show friendships, all we really need is to be physically close and slightly cutesy."

"That doesn't seem too difficult."

"Maybe not for me, but you aren't exactly very touchy."

"Then I will endeavor to be more so,” Enjolras reached over an took Grantaire's wine glass, setting it on the counter behind the bath as he slid to the other side of the tub, squeezing the two of them together, side by side and intertwining their fingers.

Grantaire's breathing stuttered. "Don't overdo it out of the gates,” he warned, though not pulling his hand back. “We should start out slowly. Build up to it. Pretend we didn't plan it right now in the bathtub."

"I shall defer to your judgment,” Enjolras said, not moving away.

"It would probably be most believable if I’m overly touchy and you are unbothered by my over touchiness and we can see where that gets us. Or just whatever feels natural."

"Sounds like a plan. Do we let Marius know?"

"As soon as we leave this room there are cameras and microphones everywhere and I kind of think it would be more fun to confuse the hell out of him,” Grantaire smiled.

"So, don't actively hide the truth but don't say it either."

"Yeah, and if ever it goes too far and you get uncomfortable, feel free to tell me to fuck off and don't worry about what the cameras see. If anything, they’ll eat up the drama."

"The same goes for you."

"Shake on it?"

Enjolras brought their still intertwined hands out of the water and raised an eyebrow.

“Fine, we’ll seal it with a kiss,” Grantaire kissed the back of Enjolras’ hand.

"What is our secret backstory?” Enjolras asked, “Are we implying that we are romantically interested in one another or that we just have a curiously close friendship?"

"Close friendship. If we are too gay then we risk getting kicked for not being here ‘for the right reasons’. We just have to lightly imply there's something more."

"A delicate line to tread."

"Indeed. So, try not to cringe when I touch you."

"I'm not cringing now."

"And I'm very proud of you,” Grantaire dropped his hand to clasp Enjolras’ face, receiving an annoyed look, “You should also probably prepare yourself for some _heavy_ flirting." He released him, grabbing back his wine glass.

"I'm not exactly sure I know how to flirt."

"That's alright, we'll work with what we've got."

"Okay,” he paused, “How long are we going to sit in this bathtub?"

"I dunno. It's been a very long time since I've taken a bath. I'm not really sure how long people sit here."

"I'm feeling unproductive."

"Good. Your supposed to be taking a break after all."

"I don't like it."

“Well, by telling me that you were sent here to relax, you now have to deal with me forcing you to relax. So, maybe we should just sit here and do nothing. We can just calmly sit in silence, without a care in the world.”

“Grantaire.” His tone was decidedly exasperated.

"Alright, fine, then let's talk politics."

"You have my interest."

"Yeah, you would definitely like political dirty talk."

“I still don’t really know what you mean by that.”

“Shall I demonstrate? I promise to keep it tame.”

Enjolras nodded, Grantaire took a gulp of wine and leaned forward, his lips nearly brushing the blonde’s ear, “Enjolras,” he breathed lowly, “How would you feel if I offered you the ability to redistrict the entirety of the US in a fair and balanced manor?”

Enjolras’ head tipped forward as he snorted. “You don’t have that kind of power.”

Grantaire leaned back, smiling. “Okay, well one this only works if you can use your imagination and two, how do you know? Maybe I have powerful friends hidden away,” he protested, sliding an arm around the back of the tub, around Enjolras’ shoulder.

“Then this would be a fantasy where I sleep with you in exchange for political action?”

“Essentially, though it’s a lot less sexy when you say it like that.”

“Appealing to my martyrdom, there’s potential, though I don’t like the implication that I’m sleeping with someone who is in good with people in the House.”

“Oh, my friends would be at the very top, I assure you. They would pull the strings of the operation and all that.”

“Hm, I suppose that’s a _little_ better.”

“Fine, so if you don’t plan to sleep your way into power, tell me how you plan to combat gerrymandering.”

“If you insist.”

They ended up staying in the bath arguing until the water went cold.

* * *

"Hey you guys might want to come outside,” Feuilly said as they returned to the living room. The other guys were already grouped outside on the back porch, staring up at the sky where bright lights danced in the darkness.

"What the fuck?" Grantaire asked, looking up to see what appeared to be an aurora borealis.

"There's a big solar flare,” Feuilly explained, “It’s sending lights halfway across the country.”

"I bet that's where they sent Marius,” he muttered to Enjolras who was hovering at his side. He pulled them over to a bench where they sat together, shoulders touching. They sat there watching for a long time. When they parted ways for sleep Marius was not yet back.

* * *

When Grantaire went down to breakfast the next morning, Marius and Enjolras were sitting at the table. Marius was practically glowing and Enjolras was pretending to pay attention to whatever he was saying.

"Good morning," the lawyer said when he caught sight of Grantaire, cutting Marius off mid-sentence.

"Morning," Grantaire replied, opening the fridge and pouring himself a glass of orange juice. "Marius, I am dying to know what you did last night."

"They drove us out to a viewing field and there were like northern lights because of some solar flares or something. It was beautiful, we got to sit out there for hours talking."

"That sounds magical."

"What did you guys get up to?"

"Well, we watched the lights too but I imagine it wasn't nearly as romantic, unfortunately. Anyway, what are the plans for today?"

“We have the cocktail party in a few hours,” Enjolras reminded him.

Bahorel had warned them the day before that this party was set up as a black-tie event, they were being driven off to a theater set for the middle of the day, rather than the end because they were watching movies for the rest of the night.

* * *

When the time came for everyone to leave, Grantaire hung back talking to Feuilly and ended up late to get ready, riding to the location of the party with the crew. He did not see Marius and Enjolras before leaving.

When he arrived alone, he hovered at the back to observe the room. The theme was obviously black and silver, he was standing beside a black wall decorated with a multitude of different sized silvery stars. Without thinking, he reached up to remove the largest one in his immediate area, which unfortunately was just out of his reach on tiptoes.

"Grantaire, what are you doing?"

Grantaire turned to see Enjolras looking all too perfect in his tux. "I want that big star up there." He turned back to continue reaching.

There was a tug at the back of his coat. "Behave." Enjolras said, turning him around to smooth the front of his jacket.

"But I want to make chaos, Enjolras, you cannot contain me: I am wild." He grinned, leaning forward, pulling at the blonde’s tie and flipping it over his shoulder.

"You're ridiculous."

“And you’re tall. Can you get this star for me?” he asked, backing up against the wall and pointing over his head.

“You’re a bit in the way.”

“Am I?” Grantaire tilted his head, “I think you can still reach it.”

Enjolras stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder and reaching up over the artist to tear the star off the wall. He then eased back, holding out the shimmering object.

“Thank you, Apollo.” Grantaire grinned at him, looping his finger through the tape at the back of another smaller star at his side and pulling it free from the wall before kissing it and sticking it to Enjolras’ cheek, removing the larger star from his hand and pressing it to his own cheek.

Enjolras was staring at him curiously.

"So, where is poor sweet Marius?"

“He sought out Cosette, it seems he has found his confidence,” the taller man said, plucking the star from his face and sticking it to the front of his suit.

“We’ll see how long that lasts-“ he stopped short as he heard the shattering of glass on the ground beside him. When he looked over, Enjolras was staring down at his now wine spattered suit, Gueulemer standing in front of him apologizing profusely over he shattered wine glass between them.

“Hey, what the fuck?” Grantaire demanded when I appeared Enjolras would not.

Gueulemer raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, dude, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Bullshit-“

“It’s fine,” Enjolras said, grabbing Grantaire’s sleeve as he stepped away.

“Enjolras-“ the artist protested.

“It’s fine,” he repeated, tugging him away.

Grantaire huffed, grabbing Enjolras by the arm and directing him over to a food table in order to mop up the front of his suit. “No way was that an accident. What a fucking childish way to deal with your interpersonal issues,” Grantaire hissed, attempting to draw some of the red out of Enjolras’ shirt, though he knew it was thoroughly fucked.

“I highly doubt confronting him would have helped,” the lawyer pointed out.

“Yeah, but it would make me feel better. If he weren’t so fucking buff I might think about taunting him into a fight, but I don’t feel like getting my ass kicked.”

“Do not go around starting fights,” Enjolras warned, pushing his napkin away; it wasn’t helping anyway.

Grantaire stuck his tongue out. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“No, but I assume you don’t want to be kicked off.”

“Agh, no. But-“ he huffed, “I suppose I see your point. Damn you for being rational.”

“I make sense, it’s what I do.”

“Fuck off, you make zero sense and you’re insane.”

Grantaire stayed close to Enjolras for the remainder of the party, leaving only to seek out Cosette.

“Where did this come from?” Cosette asked when he pulled her away for some alone time, picking the star from his face.

“I had Enjolras pluck a star from the sky for me.”

“Oh really? That’s quite impressive,” she said, sticking the star to the middle of his forehead.

“Very impressive, I’m sorry you missed it, though you got to watch some spectacular feats of male agility today.”

“I did,” Cosette grinned, “I give you a ten out of ten in the Marius toss.”

“Thank you, I just couldn’t let Montparnasse beat him, but felt a little bad making him face off against E and Gueulemer.” He resisted the urge to tattle on Gueulemer for his bad behavior.

“Oh don’t, he was adorably pathetic.”

“I suppose he did still get a date out of it.”

“I’m not going to kick him out for having weak arms.”

“Thank goodness for that, otherwise he’d be doomed.”

Not long after he returned to the group another rose ceremony came and went with the three Amis moving on without much stress. Eleven contestants remained.

"I wonder what sort of movie they're going to show us,” Marius wondered as they waited outside what would become their theater.

"Cosette said earlier it was a horror movie,” Enjolras informed him.

"Hm,” Grantaire hummed, “What sort of horror movie, I wonder."

"Unknown."

"How do you two feel about horror movies?" Grantaire asked, though the grimace on Marius’ face was telling.

“Bad,” Marius said simply.

"I don't watch a lot of movies,” Enjolras replied, “and I don’t find the genre particularly interesting."

"I like some horror movies,” Grantaire said, “But I tend to be more of a gore fan. I also like old terrible movies with practical effects. I do not, however, like jumpscares. They aren't _scary_ scary they just startle the hell out of me and I hate it."

The door opened, allowing everyone inside. There were four rows of couches, Les Amis took the back corner, Grantaire squeezed in the middle. They all sat shoulder to shoulder.

Marius looked so unhappy that Grantaire offered his hand to squeeze before the movie even started.

The movie itself was a typical ghost story movie: a family moved into a creepy old house where strange things started to happen, culminating in an exorcism to combat the possession of their eldest daughter. It was painfully predictable, but Grantaire swore under his breath every time there was a jumpscare.

He kept sneaking glances at Enjolras who began the movie completely unphased, though over time his expression seemed increasingly annoyed. Half way through the film, Grantaire nearly shouted as something touched his shoulder. He looked over to see Enjolras had fallen asleep. After another jump Enjolras woke as Grantaire flinched.

"Sorry,” the artist whispered.

"It’s alright." Enjolras repositioned himself, slipping off his shoes and pulling his legs onto the couch as he placed his head in Grantaire’s lap, turning to face the screen, which he could not see over the backs of the seats in front of him. Grantaire placed a hand on his arm and paid very little attention to the rest of the film.

"What did you think of the movie?" Grantaire asked Enjolras when they were back on the bus. Marius was huddled against the window next to Grantaire.  

"I did not appreciate the screechy music."

“I hated it.” Marius shuddered.

“I know you did, you murdered my poor hand.”

“Sorry, ghosts are just creepy. If I ever get possessed, you have permission to burn my body alive, don’t even try to save me.”

“Jesus, that’s a little dramatic, don’t you think? What if you became pals with the ghost you were sharing a body with.”

“That never happens.”

“You don’t know that. Hollywood has an anti-ghost bias. Not all ghosts, Marius. As a ghost I would never- well, actually… I would probably think it would be funny to possess people and make them do weird things. I would be a trickster sort of ghost.”

“I would mind my own business… Well, maybe if I was hovering around someone nice, I might try to make friends. But there would be no possession, it’s too creepy and invasive.”

“Marius the benevolent ghost. What about you, Apollo, what sort of ghost would you be?”

Enjolras was watching him carefully, head tipped back against the seat behind him. Grantaire wondered if his headache had returned or if it had ever subsided.

“Ghosts aren’t real.”

“I’m telling you, Enj, you have got to work on using your imagination more creatively. I bet you would be the type of ghost who would turn on CSPAN all the time and pull up a million political related tabs on the computer. Or you would write weird political notes to whoever you were haunting.”

“That sounds really irritating,” Marius said.

“Very irritating,” Grantaire agreed, “But if ever you die, I give you permission to haunt me. I might not even be upset if you possessed me in order to give speeches on the floor of the House.” He winked at the blond.

Enjolras gave a strained smile.

Upon their return to the house everyone was pulled away for their interviews. Grantaire was finding it increasingly suspicious that he always ended up interviewed by Jehan.

"What did you think if the Olympics?" the producer asked.

"I enjoyed them more after I was not participating, but at least I won a bet. Well, kind of won. I sort of cheated."

“So, you’re a fan of the javelin through.”

“I found it very impressive.”

“Anyone in particular you found impressive?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

"You and Enjolras seem to be getting along well."

"Do we?"

"How would you describe your feelings on him?"

"I think Enjolras is a very special person. Someday he is going to do something amazing and leave us all in the dust."

"You also think he's photogenic."

"He's very pretty,” Grantaire laughed, “Is that what you want me to say?"

Jehan sat back, grinning. “I think that should be it. Have a good night, R.”

“Thank you, Jehan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is such trash but I die for fake dating AUs. Let the teasing begin.
> 
> I have a weird childhood memory of seeing lights the sky in association with solar flares but I dont know if it really happened. 
> 
> E need to stop being a dick to marius
> 
> Thanks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R is bad at camping and e goes on a date.

The morning was unseasonably cold. Grantaire could see his breath as the group set out from the parking lot. They were hiking up along a little path. Bahorel was throwing spurious nature facts at them and Marius was correcting him under his breath as they walked. He apparently had a wealth of nature knowledge.

"It didn’t rain last night did it?" Grantaire asked, staring at the ground and interrupting Marius’ one-sided discussion on the uptake of water from trees after Bahorel claimed that the reason trees fell in the aftermath of storms was that they became top heavy from all the rainwater they gathered.

"No," Enjolras glanced over at him, "why?"

"There are worms everywhere." There _were_ worms everywhere, slinking their way across the cold dry ground. "Or do they just do this every morning?"

"I don't think so," Marius said, "When the dirt is saturated with water, they can’t breathe so well, and they have to come up. Otherwise they like to stay in damp soil."

“Why can’t I live like that?”

“Wiggling around in the dirt?”

“Yeah, to hell with my responsibilities, I want to spend my days as a worm. Enjolras wants to be a revolutionary, you to want to be Cosette’s husband, and I want to be a worm.”

“What if someone steps on you?”

“If someone is going to step on me, I want it to be Enjolras. That’s how I want to go, crushed beneath Enjolras’ boots.”

“What?” Enjolras asked, apparently listening to the conversation more closely than Grantaire had anticipated.

"Oh look, Cosette is coming our way," Grantaire said loudly, watching Cosette drop back through the line of hikers.

"Hey, guys," she greeted, "Enjolras, I was wondering if you would like to go on a one on one with me."

"Of course," Enjolras smiled.

"Oof, Cosette, be mindful of the hearts you're breaking," Grantaire cried.

"Sorry," Cosette laughed, "Not trying to drive a wedge between you guys."

"Oh, but the producers would love that."

"I'm sure they have enough to work with already. I do hope my season is full of action. Anyway, I've got to get back to the front, don't want to make them think I'm showing favoritism."

"But you do favor us, right? Oh, say that you do."

"Hush, R,” she poked his nose, “I'll see you all later."

"Bye," Marius cooed after her.

"Look at you, cool guy..." Grantaire nudged Enjolras once she had gone. "Marius relax, my god, you're ridiculous." Marius was pouting to himself and continued to do so as they came upon a clearing.

"Alright everyone,” Cosette called their attention, "When I was little, I used to go camping all the time with my dad. So, you all are going to try your hand at setting up a campsite."

Laid out before them were a series of tarps and sticks so that they could design their own tent.

Grantaire had never been camping, nor had he ever had any desire to go. He was also apparently very bad at tent construction, so ten minutes into the competition he was sitting on the cold ground, fiddling with his tarp in frustration. He gave a shout of anguish as he threw his supplies.

"Would you like some help?" Enjolras asked, leaning around his own half-built tent.

"No, we sleep in the dirt like men. This is my first step toward achieving my worm transformation," he pouted, laying back in the dirt, watching a daddy long leg crawl across his stomach.

"I'm going to help you anyway."

"Thank you, Enjolras," he said, launching himself to his feet and grabbing Enjolras in a side hug, kissing his shoulder. "You're an angel."

"I don't think tent construction is an angelic ability."

"Shows what you know," Grantaire said, sitting back in the dirt as he watched Enjolras work.

Within moments the tent had a solid base constructed.

“There’s a start.”

"Does this mean I can give up now?" Grantaire whined.

"I don’t think so."

"Marius is going to win, so what's the point?"

Marius was doing shockingly well on his own. "You could try to give me some competition,” the teacher grinned.

“Look at him, all cocky and confident. Ugh, I was not meant to go outside," the artist huffed, standing again to inspect Enjolras' work.

"You have dirt in your hair," the blond said, running a hand through Grantaire's curls, his fingers icy.

"Your hands are so cold." Grantaire took his hands and pressed their backs against his cheeks, Enjorlas stepping closer with them. Enjolras blinked down at him, but did not flinch back.

Out of the corner of his eye Grantaire caught Montparnasse watching them, but decided it was best for now to ignore him. However, he could feel the drama to come.

"I need to get back to my tent." Enjolras reminded him, pulling back his hands.

"Would you be offended if I kicked mine down to roll around in the dirt some more?"

"Yes, don't do that."

"Fine, you're no fun."

Marius did end up winning the competition after which they listened to a naturalist talk about the park system.

Back at the house the rest of the day passed rather unremarkably

* * *

The next morning Grantaire dropped onto the couch next to Marius, a bag of markers in hand. He'd found them rummaging through cabinets.

"Draw with me, Marius."

"I'm terrible at drawing. You're gonna make me look bad."

"Oh, come on. Drawing is fun, live a little. Apollo, you too,” he called across the room to Enjolras.

"What are we drawing?" the blond asked, looking up from his notebook. 

"Let's draw Cosette."

"This is going to be awful,” Marius groaned.

When they finished, Grantaire's looked great, Marius' was a little childish but passable, and Enjolras' was a disaster.

"Oh no! Apollo, what the fuck is that?" Grantaire laughed.

"It’s Cosette,” Enjolras frowned.

"It is not. It looks like a dinosaur in a dress."

"Well, then I suppose I can't draw.” He pushed the paper away.

"No, you cannot,” Grantaire said sweetly, “Let me help you, we'll draw something together."

"You're just going to make fun of me."

"I won't, come here."

Grantaire pulled him toward the coffee table, standing on his knees behind the lawyer, leaning against his back, left hand braced against the table as he took control of Enjolras' right hand.

"Marius, what are we drawing?" he looked up.

Marius was giving him a look of deep consideration. "Uh, draw Bahorel?"

And they did, some of the lines were squiggly and awkward, but it looked pretty much like Bahorel.

"There, that's a little better. What do you think Marius?

"Better than I could do, you cancelled out his terribleness."

"And now you know the gratification of having your artwork complemented,” Grantaire whispered into Enjolras’ ear.

Enjolras tipped his head against Grantaire's chest to look up at him, consequently melting Grantaire’s heart. "Thank you, R."

A painful, fluttering warmth spread through his chest. "No problem," Grantaire kissed his forehead.

"You guys make me feel like a third wheel.”

"Sorry, Marius, would you like some attention?" Grantaire tackled him, tickling him into submission before he lifted Marius bridal style. "What should we do with this, Apollo?"

"I think _I_ have to go get ready."

"That's right! You have to go woo our lovely Bachelorette."

Marius gave a whine and Grantaire began rocking him like a baby. "Shh, it'll be fine?"

Marius flailed out of his grip.

"I assume you don't need help getting ready?" Grantaire said.

"I think I'll be fine."

Ten minutes later Enjolras stood by the door, ready to go.

Grantaire smoothed the front of his shirt unnecessarily. "Have a good date."

"Thank you."

"Marius is wishing you a terrible time."

"I'm not," Marius protested, though he was.

“We’ll see you later, Apollo.”

Enjolras said a swift goodbye and then he was gone.

"What to do now, senior Pontmercy?" Grantaire nudged the man beside him.

"We could make a fort out of pillows and blankets."

"An excellent suggestion. You're the master tent builder, lead on."

As it turned out, building pillow forts was infinitely more fun than building tents.

After nearly an hour the fort was just about finished, Grantaire was arranging the inside and Marius had gone to retrieve more blankets when a set of legs appeared at the fort’s entrance.

Grantaire pulled back the blankets to see Montparnasse standing over him.

"How's it going, Grantaire?" Montparnasse asked.

"Uh, good?" Grantaire crawled out of the fort. “Can I help you?”

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright with Enjolras being off on a date and all."

Grantaire rolled his eyes. "Har har, you're hilarious. I'm sure he's having a great time and I'm happy for him."

"Sure. But I believe some of the other guys think you might have given up going after Cosette and are chasing him instead."

"Other guys or just you?”

“I’m just telling you the general feeling in the house.

“Alright, so, I like to flirt with him. I flirt with everyone, if you hadn’t noticed."

"I'm just saying you seem to go harder after him than you do her. Don't you think it feels a bit like cheating?"

"It's all it jest, I assure you. I'm just a touchy person."

"But you like touching him in particular,” he accused.

"You sound like you're fixing for a fight, no matter what I say."

"Maybe I am, I don't like cheaters."

"I'm not a cheater and if it's a fight you want, then you have challenged my honor, sir. I suggest we move this to another setting. I formally challenge you to a water gun fight." He had heard from Feuilly that they kept water guns in one of the back closets.

"I accept your challenge, despite the fact it's fucking freezing outside."

"Marius is my second."

"Claquesous is mine."

"Meet me outside in ten minutes, if you dare."

"See you then,” he said, storming off as Marius reentered the room.

"Marius!" Grantaire nearly shouted, startling the blankets out of Marius' hands.

"What?!"

Grantaire grabbed him by the shoulders. "I have chosen you as my second. I must defend my honor."

"Your second in what?"

"I challenged Montparnasse to a duel. He accused me of cheating on Cosette."

"With who?"

"Enjolras."

"Oh,” Marius appeared confused, “And you were offended by this? You have been kind of all over him."

"Not the implication, more offended at the cheating accusation. Plus, I just want to squirt-gun him. Will you promise to avenge me if I fall at his hand?"

"Fine, I don't feel I have much choice in the matter-"

"You don't."

Marius made a pained face. "Then let's go."

Grantaire carried an armful of squirt guns and super soakers to the pool where Montparnasse stood in his four-person gang. They silently filled the guns, Feuilly filming from the sidelines.

When all the squirt guns were filled, Grantaire and Montparnasse both stood facing each other, close enough to watch the other shivering. They took ten steps back, Feuilly counted off as an unbiased party, and they opened fire. Grantaire wasn't sure who shot first, but suddenly he was sprinting for the other guns and everyone in the vicinity was getting sprayed.

Grantaire managed to get in a few solid hits, which were returned in kind. There was no clear person at an advantage, but Montparnasse was on the retreat.

"R!" Marius lunged at Grantaire as Claquesous aimed a super soaker. Grantaire was knocked sidelong into the pool, the water from the gun missing him and hitting Montparnasse in the face. Grantaire choked on a lungful of water laughing.

"Well," he gasped out when he had regained his composure, half from laughter, half from the freezing air in contrast to the warm pool. "I think everyone here has lost, but it was a good fight." He climbed out of the pool shivering. "I'm so cold."

"Maybe you should wait for Enjolras to get back and you can have another bath together," Montparnasse suggested.

"Watch it, maybe I will," Grantaire said, moving toward the house.

Inside, Grantaire was quick to change his soaked clothes before he returned to the living room fort were Marius had already nested.

Moments later, Montparnasse and his gang followed them.

"What are you guys doing?" Marius asked.

"We are building a fort over here," the vet motioned to the other side of the room. "In protest of your fort."

"Fine, you do that. What do we care?" Grantaire scoffed at them before turning to whisper to Marius. "Marius, we need a flag to state our authority."

"Why should we care?" he repeated.

"Marius, this is war. I cannot stand to have that creep edge us out of our own territory. I'm going to get my markers."

In the end, their flag read: Les Amis D'ABC and was a picture of three people waving a red flag on a barricade. It was taped to a meat skewer that Marius found in the kitchen.

Not long after that, another flag was raised across the room reading: Patron-Minette with a drawing of what appeared to be a poorly drawn jewel incrusted skull.

"Copycats," Grantaire hissed, "We should attack."

"No! They'll just wreck everything we've built."

"That is a risk that we just have to-" he cut himself short as the front door opened and shut.

"That must be Enjorlas back," Grantaire scrambled out of the fort, hopping to his feet. 

"That's right, R," Montparnasse called across the room, "Go win back your man."

Grantaire flipped him off. "I'll be right back," he promised Marius before hurrying off.

Enjolras was standing in the entry way, speaking with one of the cameramen when Grantaire found him. Taking a light few steps, Grantaire wrapped his arms around the blond, hugging him from behind, setting his cheek against his shoulder against his still cold jacket.

Enjolras did not even startle. "Hello, R."

"Hi." Grantaire nuzzled him.

"What are you doing?"

"Desperately seeking your attention, you were gone for too long. How was your date?"

"Well," he sighed, "it would have been good if not for the weather."

"Sorry. Wanna hang out in the fort Marius and I made?"

"Did both of you make it or did Marius make it?"

"Hey, I helped a little, thank you very much."

"Let's see it then."

"Alright, although I warn you, Montparnasse is being bitchy, so expect some snide comments."

He guided him by the hand to their fort, Montparnasse peeking out at them as they entered the room. "Have you no shame?" he hissed as they settled.

"What?" Enjolras blinked at him.

"Ignore him," Grantaire said, pulling a blanket over the entrance.

"So, what happened? Marius and I are dying to know." Grantaire poked Marius' cheek. "He said the weather killed it, so there's no need to worry."

"I wasn't worried," Marius protested, looking relieved.

"We were out on a hike and we got about half as far as they wanted us to go before the wind picked up and made going farther impossible. Then one of the camera men dropped his camera down into a valley and he had to wait for them to retrieve it, so it was a mess."

"Did you have your big in-depth emotional moment?"

"Yes, over a false lunch. She was very understanding and I got a rose." he pulled a crushed rose out of his pocket."

"Jesus Christ, Apollo, have a little compassion for the flower."

"It fell off while I was walking in and at that point, I didn’t think it mattered. Anyway, we spent the rest of our time speaking about the current state of the U.S. prison system. She is very knowledgeable on that topic” He went off on a spiel about the prison industrial complex, Marius pretending to be interested and Grantaire poking at his ideas just to be irritating.

* * *

That night, the cocktail party was held indoors at the mansion due to the wind. The party itself was rather uneventful, though Cosette hung more around Enjolras than she had done before. Grantaire noted that she kept a hand on his shoulder. The artist resisted the urge to stare her down and instead bickered with the blond on the topic of healthcare, thereby claiming his attention.

The rose ceremony also passed uneventfully with nine contestants remaining.

Grantaire had his post-ceremony interview in the kitchen with Jehan.

“So, you and Enjolras…?” Jehan prompted.

“What about me and Enjolras?”

“There are some rumors going around.”

“Oh?” Grantaire leaned back, “What sort of rumors?”

“I believe Montparnasse brought them to your attention.”

“Ah, _those_ rumors. All I have to say is that I would not dream of hurting Cosette in any capacity and Montparnasse can go fuck himself,” he smiled.

“You have nothing more to say? Not even a denial?” As Jehan spoke the power went out.

“You made the gods angry by asking those questions, Jehan,” Grantaire said, poking in the producer’s direction and was rewarded with a yelp.

“Don’t take it out on me, I’m speaking for the collective,” Jehan scolded, “Come on, interview over, let’s find some flashlights.”

Everyone was given a small flashlight to carry around, but without electricity everyone seemed to go to bed early, Grantaire included. However, sometime later after much tossing and turning, he abandoned the effort. He stepped out of bed and into the darkness with only his tiny flashlight as a guide. Nobody else was up, so he figured it must be very early morning.

When he stepped into the living room, he reflexively switched the light switch and gave an annoyed huff at the lack of light when suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder. "Fuck!" he jerked back, shining his flashlight into Enjolras’ face. "You need a fucking bell! Why do you do this to me?"

"Sorry,” Enjolras pushed the flashlight aside.

"Why are you up?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Same, I was going to walk off my energy but now I'm _very_ awake, so thanks for that. Why don't you have your light on?"

"I adjusted to the dark. I was going to climb out onto the roof, would you like to come?"

"Is that allowed?"

"Probably not if they knew we could do it."

"Oh, you rebel. I'm all for a little bit of rule breaking."

Enjolras switched on his own flashlight and led the way toward the back of the building, around a staircase that Grantaire had not been up before and into a bathroom where there was a small square fold out window with no screen.

"When did you find this?"

"Wandering in the night. I've been out a few times and no one has caught me yet."

Enjolras stood on the toilet cover in order to prop the glass open and shimmied through the small gap. Grantaire followed, soon finding himself on the slight incline of a steeped roof. They were on the back left half of the building. Part of the second floor assented into another peak but they stood on the main roof. The incline was not so sharp as to be dangerous, but with the wind it made Grantaire slightly nervous.

"There's a terrace over here," Enjolras pulled him toward a small awning only large enough for maybe four people and Grantaire assumed it attached to a portion of the house where they were not allowed to go.

As they walked, Grantaire heard a crunch underfoot. Curious, he turned his flashlight toward the roof and gasped.

"What?"

"The snails!" he cried in horror.

"What snails?"

"I saw them the other day." There was a scattering of snails across the roof, one of which Enjolras had stepped on. Some appeared to be alive, but most were shriveled and dead. He moved his flashlight toward the rise in the roofing and saw more snails climbing the side. "What the fuck? Can you boost me up there?"

"That seems ill advised but sure." The two of them stepped onto the terrace before Enjolras offered him two hands to step on, boosting him onto the highest part of the roof.

Grantaire was slightly worried about falling, but the mystery was killing him and dying while falling off the roof of the Bachelor mansion to look at some weird snails was a death he could be content with.

He crawled to the roof’s peek where he found a small mountain of dead snails, piled on top of each other. He wasn't sure what to make of that, he tilted his head upward as if maybe they had been building toward something, but the dark sky held no answers.

 He dropped back onto the terrace, Enjorlas steadying his descent.

"What did you find?"

"A weird pile of dead snails. What does that even mean? Were they having some big snail orgy or were they just hanging out or what? I don’t know much about snails. Do you think maybe they're being affected by the solar flare the other day?"

"You think snails would be sensitive to solar flares?"

"Okay, it sounds dumb when you say it like that but seriously, what the fuck?"

"I don't know, maybe Marius knows something about snail behavior," he shrugged, taking a seat on a bench and staring out at the sky.

"Maybe." Grantaire sat beside him, following his gaze. “I guess it doesn’t really matter.” The wind seemed to have blown away the clouds and the sky was spattered with stars without the city lights to drown them out. Grantaire gazed upon those thousands of tiny light specks, some of them moving towards locations unknown, some remaining fixed in place, all of them making Grantaire feel very small.

"Think there are beings of higher power out there, E?" he asked, vaguely remembering him speaking of gods before.

"I'm not foolish enough to think I'm the most powerful being the universe has to offer."

"Really? I expected you to be a nihilist; an empty universe kind of guy, not one to believe in Gods."

"I don’t believe in gods. Just because a being has higher power does not make them any better than those at lower power."

"Um, I think by definition it does. I would say that ants are beneath humans and humans are beneath god like entities. Most people would probably agree.”

Enjolras kicked the railing in front of them in irritation. "But humans are sentient! Limited perhaps, but having abilities that other non-sentient beings do not. The reason an ant is considered below a human is that they cannot even begin to understand the world around them. Humans aren’t like that, they have the ability to learn and change and carry out complex thought. I think that that should allow them to stand on a level with beings of different or higher power." He was talking with his hands, he only talked with his hands when he was especially passionate about somethings.

"Wait, so you're talking about 'gods' in the context of aliens?"

"I suppose I am. That's what they would be, right?"

"Yeah, but I guess it just shocks me that you would waste the energy thinking about _aliens_ at all."

"In an infinite universe there must be other life forms out there and we should all be prepared for them when they arrive, otherwise everything will fall to chaos."

"Enjolras, do you...” Grantaire asked cautiously, “Do you have an alien contingency plan?"

"Of course."

"Like an honest to god plan in case of an alien invasion?"

"Yes, every government should be required to have one," he said, inadvertently implying that he was his own body of government, and speaking as through it were completely normal to consider the practical aspects of an alien invasion at such a depth.

"Marry me, Enjolras," Grantaire sighed, falling against his shoulder. Belatedly, it occurred to him that there were no cameras to see them, but Enjolras didn't seem to mind.

"You haven't even heard my plan yet, you don't know if it's any good."

"Well, I have zero plans, so you're three steps ahead of me. I'm just trying to secure my place as a member of post invasion earth,” he said, wrapping his arms around the lawyer as he shivered with another gust of wind.

"Well, if we are ever invaded, I'll do my best to ensure your safety,” Enjolras promised.

"Be careful of the promises you make. If you save my life, you'll never be able to get rid of me."

"Perhaps I could live with that, if you don’t get in my way."

"Good god, Apollo, my heart is racing,” he teased, “And you said you couldn't flirt."

"Does that count as flirting? All I did was promise your safety in a hypothetical situation. Besides I would ensure protection for all people."

"And there goes the wind from my wings.” The artist drew back, wounded. “If you are going to flirt, you have to make a person feel special.”

“And doing so through the discussion of alien invasions is a viable option?”

"Well, maybe it wouldn't work on everybody, but it works for me."

"Good to know," Enjorlas rolled his eyes, though he was smiling. Their shoulders were still touching as his face turned skyward, leaving Grantaire to babble on about the stars and trying very hard not to stare at the miraculous oddity beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh this is a short little trashy bridging chapter. The next is like 11 times more fun, you can tell I couldn’t be asked with this one
> 
> And Montparnasse's actions are purely for the drama bc there shall be no homophobia here :-P he's such a shit villain tho haha
> 
> Thanks.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dancing and drunk e

When Grantaire awoke he had been sleeping for less than four hours as the sound of people readying breakfast traveled in from the kitchen. Upon opening his eyes, the artist found that he was curled up in the blanket fort, Enjolras sitting up beside him, wearing a change of clothes, and writing in his notebook. Last night, after returning inside, Grantaire had crawled into the fort while Enjolras had elected to sleep on the couch.

"Morning," he said groggily, "What are you doing in here? Not that I'm complaining."

"Montparnasse was bothering me and I didn't want to deal with it. You should probably go get ready. Jehan said to wear something comfortable and stretchy for the group date."

"I don't like the sound of that," Grantaire grimaced, “What was Montparnasse saying? I’ll beat him up if you want me to.”

“That will not be necessary, I’m sure he is just looking for a reaction and he will not get one from me.”

“Unless he trashes your political views.”

“He would be doing so at his own risk.”

“You’ve got that right. Ugh, I don’t want to get up. Can we just hide in here forever?” he whined.

“Would you just abandon Marius like that?”

“Marius can visit.”

“Jehan will be visiting if you don’t get up soon.”

“Fine, I’m going.” He clawed his way out of the fort. At least it seemed the power was back on by the obnoxiously bright light overhead.

"Marius!" Grantaire exclaimed upon entering the kitchen, nearly making the poor man inhale his toast.

"Yes?"

"What can you tell me about snails?"

"Um, what do you want to know?"

"Hypothetically,” Grantaire said, grabbing a banana, “why would they congregate on the rooftops?"

"Why would they _what_?"

"Like do they typically bunch together on rooftops or should I suspect cult activity?"

"Where did you see these snails?"

"Uh nowhere." He nudged a head toward the ceiling.

Marius shook his head. "I have literally no idea what would possibly make that happen."

"Must be aliens then." Grantaire sighed, taking a bite of his banana.

"What would aliens want with snails?"

"To... Monitor us?"

"That wouldn't put them on the roof."

"Mmm.. Hey, Enj, what would aliens want with snails?"

"It depends on the type of alien." Enjolras shrugged, taking a seat at the table beside Marius.

"Maybe they want food,” Grantaire reasoned, “They're abducting snails as a delicacy."

"Most of the snails were dead,” Enjolras pointed out.

"Maybe they suck out the life force of the snails."

"I find that highly doubtful," the blond rolled his eyes.

"I don’t know why you’re scoffing at me, you weirdo. You apparently spend more time thinking about aliens than I do."

"I think practically about aliens. You are wildly speculating. There's a difference."

"Yeah, I have a sense of imagination. You’re trying your very best to take the fun out of the extraterrestrial."

"It's what I do."

"Do you also have a plan for an AI takeover."

"No, an alien invasion is more likely."

"That's what they want you to think."

The morning passed quickly and soon enough everyone was on their way to the group date.

The weather was terrible, buckets of rain assaulted the busses as they pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall. The group was dropped off directly in front of the target building and even then, everyone was half soaked by the time they were inside what appeared to be a dance studio. Grantaire was suddenly very excited.

"Oh, please tell me we get to dance!" he grinned, bouncing on his heels.

"Oh no," Marius whined.

"Hello, everyone!" Cosette said, entering from a door at the back of the room. "I'm glad you could all make it. As you may have guessed, we are going to be doing a bit of dancing. I know zero things about the art of dance, so I think it will be a learning experience for all of us," she laughed. "But before we get started, Claquesous, will you go on a one on one with me today?"

"Of course," Claquesous said smoothly.

"Excellent, and Grantaire and Enjolras will you two go on a two on one with me tomorrow?"

"Absolutely," Enjorlas said just as Grantaire was saying: "We would love to."

Grantaire was thrilled but a bit apprehensive at the prospect of a two on one with Enjolras. The two on one was designed for confrontation between the participating parties. It would most definitely make for good tv, he just hoped he wouldn't seem too embarrassingly adoring of Enjolras.

"Awesome! Now that that's settled, let's get started," she clapped her hands as an unknown man walked in, presumably their dance instructor.

"I wonder where Bahorel is," Grantaire frowned, speaking just a bit too loudly.

“R, pay attention,” Cossette scolded, though she was smiling.

Grantaire clasped a hand over his mouth. “Humblest of apologies, my dear.”

"Bahorel's driveway was a river this morning. He should be back tomorrow. He said he'd rent a kayak if he had to,” she assured.

"I knew he wouldn't desert us."

The men were assigned to dance as backup to Cosette like some sort of dance gang. Some of the dancers were decidedly better than others. Moving together they all probably looked hilarious, but Grantaire was by far the best dancer of the lot. But he had done quite a bit of dancing in his time. Amongst the others, Enjolras followed instructions well and looked ethereally graceful with every move he made, dancing or not; Cosette held her own fairly well, but had to work at keeping up the pace; and Marius was an awkward disaster, no surprise there. At one point Marius knocked Gueulemer flat onto his face after a particularly spectacular flail, which was really both of their faults, as Gueulemer had stumbled a little too close.

By the time they had learned their routine enough to look halfway presentable, it was late afternoon. They performed one final run through in front of a class of giggling ballerinas all of whom looked about seven, then Cosette left immediately with Claquesous for their one on one.

As everyone was waiting for the busses to arrive, they stood below the studio overhang. As they stood, Marius when was very obviously shoulder checked out into the rain by Gueulemer.

"Hey what the fuck?" Grantaire demanded, pulling Marius out of a puddle.

"Sorry," Gueulemer shrugged unapologetically, "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Bullshit, you-"

Montparnasse stepped forward. "What Gueulemer is trying to say is that he is clumsy and that, in conjunction with Marius' incoordination, led to this accident you see here. And he _is_ very sorry.

"Very sorry," Gueulemer confirmed.

"Fuck off, he was standing completely still!"

"R, it's fine," Marius said quietly.

"No, it's not!" he retorted as the first bus pulled up. Gueulemer gave them a self-satisfied smirk as he boarded.

Grantaire seethed as he stepped onto the next bus. "She better kick him off this time. I don't understand why he's still here. I mean, I do, it adds drama, but seriously what an asshole."

"Who do you think will leave after this?" Marius asked nervously.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. Last night I thought a few of the guys were pretty nice and I'm a little surprised they left. I think maybe she's getting rid of the ones who are halfway decent so that she doesn't lead them on. Which doesn't bode well for Apollo and me, given that the two on one is meant to show a contrast between contestants."

Marius looked a little pale. "I'll just be glad when all of this is over. Or I'll be heartbroken. Either way, the stress will end."

"Marius, I guarantee you are going to win, relax," he sighed, before turning to Enjolras who was resting his head against the glass of the window beside him. "Apollo, you've been rather quiet."

"Headache."

"Have you always had bad headaches?"

"Not until recently. They aren't so bad, just a little unpleasant."

"I'm sure Jehan could get you some painkillers."

"No, I'll be fine." He slouched back, watching the downpour continue.

* * *

When they arrived back at the house, the storm had transformed from torrential downpour to full on lightning storm.

Grantaire was standing in the living room as Enjolras and Marius changed out of their wet clothes. He was watching the storm through a window and drinking a glass of wine when the glass was flipped up into his face and down his front.

"Shit!" he coughed.

"Sorry." Gueulemer grinned.

Grantaire thought his head might actually explode. "Fuck you! No, you're not. Shut the fuck up! If you aren't sorry then at least fucking own up to it. You absolutely did it on purpose. Either apologize and mean it or fuck off and get out of my fucking face, you fucking-!"

"Grantaire!" Marius called, hurrying across the room to tug at his arm as he had stormed into Gueulemer's personal space.

"No! I'm fucking sick of his childish bullshit."

"Grantaire, while I agree-" Enjolras said, appearing at the artist's other side.

"No, don't try to talk me out of this, Apollo. This mother fucker shoved Marius into a puddle and that will not stand. I am a ride or die bitch and I'm not walking away from this."

Enjolras gave him a steady look. "Very well."

"This is bullshit," Gueulemer scoffed, "I'm out of here."

"Not so tuff without the brains of the operation, eh? Come back when you can let Montparnasse do the talking for you, coward."

Grantaire knew the blow was coming by the crazed look that came over Gueulemer's block shaped face. He braced for an impact that never came. Enjolras stepped forward, grabbing is moving arm, dropping to the floor to hook a leg around Gueulemer's ankle and shoving him backward, Gueulemer landed hard on his back with a loud gasp, tearing down the fort behind him. Luckily, Grantaire noted distantly, not Les Amis’ fort. At once, Enjolras stood, returning to Grantaire's side where Marius was still tugging at his shirt.

"Fuck," Grantaire breathed, adrenaline surging.

"Can we be done with this now?" Enjolras asked in annoyance.

For a moment Grantaire did not answer, too caught up in staring at the irritated blond. "Uh, yeah, sorry," he managed.

"Oh no you don't." Gueulemer raged, getting back to his feet. As he was about to charge forward there was a deafening crack of thunder as the power went out. In the darkness, Grantaire was grabbed by the front of his shirt and pulled toward the room's exit, Marius in tow. Behind them, Gueulemer swore loudly.

When they were pulled into the entrance hall, Enjolras stopped. His figure illuminated by another bolt of lightning. "I wish you would-"

He stopped short as Grantaire hugged him. "Thank you for not letting me get punched in the face," he said into the blonde's collar.

"You are welcome," Enjolras said, wrapping his arms around Grantaire in return, hesitant and somewhat awkward. "Please stop trying to get into fights."

"Fine, although you haven't given me much incentive now that I know you can and will drop a guy for me." Grantaire leaned back to grin at him, their eyes meeting. Enjolras was still frightfully intimidating in the darkness, perhaps even more so with the stormy ambience playing out above them. Grantaire thought he could watch at him for an eternity and not lose interest.

"Um, should I go?" Marius asked awkwardly.

Grantaire realized that they had been silently staring at each other for a few beats longer than was considered normal and reluctantly pulled back. "No, are _you_ alright?"

"Yes, please don't do that again."

Grantaire ruffled his hair. "Fine. Fine. You've both convinced me. No more fights," he sighed, though his mind was elsewhere.

He found himself desperately missing Bossuet. Thinking about Enjolras made his chest ache and he was a little worried that if the pressure of his affections did not have an outlet he might spontaneously combust or do something devastatingly embarrassing.

* * *

Grantaire purposely stayed awake that night until nearly everyone else had gone back to their rooms. He found Enjolras sitting alone in the living room.

"Hello," Enjolras looked up as he entered.

"Hi, what are you up to?"

"Can't sleep."

"I was wondering, and feel free to shut me down, but maybe might I peer pressure you into a drink? Or do you have a moral objection to drinking?"

"I have no moral objection. I just don't see the point in allowing my senses to be dulled."

"You've never been drunk then?"

"No, I'm told I'm a very amusing drunk, it just seems like a waste of time."

"Do you have anything better to do?"

"No, I suppose not. Perhaps one then, if you are intent on getting me drunk."

"I just want you to relax a little. Is your head still hurting?"

"Yes," he sighed as Grantaire poured him a drink.

"Maybe you should talk to Bossuet's little doctor friend."

"I have a doctor friend of my own, but I don't think it's something to be concerned about." He took a sip of wine.

One drink became two became three and Enjolras got drunker faster than anyone Grantaire had ever seen. Soon enough, Enjolras was leaning heavily against Grantaire, having grown increasingly slumped in posture. Drunk Enjolras was somehow even more blunt than sober Enjolras, a lot more handsy, and a lot more absurd.

"Fucking fabric," the blond spat, tugging at the collar of Grantaire's shirt. "Why'd humans not evolved- evolve some sorta shell or hard... exterior. It seems cruel to make them make their own… covers."

"Are you saying that you'd rather have everyone go around naked?" Grantaire snorted, "I didn't take you for a nudist. Though I suppose you of all people should have no shame, pretty as you are."

"No, sometimes clothes are just restrictive." he said, leaning back to awkwardly throw off his red hoody in a fit of frustration. "Plus, I can do this." he jabbed Grantaire in the stomach. "Right in your soft underbelly. It's a design flaw."

"Um ow," Grantaire wheezed, "Sorry you take my defenseless body as an affront to nature?"

"Not just yours. We are all helpless fleshy beings flailing in the darkness,” he said seriously.

"Humans are an abomination, I'll drink to that."

"No, they have potential. You _can't_ just damn all humans like that! This human is not an abomination," he pinched Grantaire's cheek.

"Stop it! You're so grabby!" he laughed, looking down and fixated on the dark shirt Enjolras was wearing. "What the fuck is on your shirt?" Grantaire asked, pulling the shirt flat to read it. It appeared to be a series of chemical formulas.

He looked down. "Oh, this isn't mine. Courfeyrac packed my stuff. This is one of Combeferre's dumb science shirts."

"Dumb science bitch."

Enjolras grinned. "He wears a lab coat all the time," he said like it was exceptionally ridiculous.

"Is he your doctor friend?"

"Yes."

"I suppose that makes sense then."

Enjolras gave a non-committal sound. "It makes him feel like a cool guy. Courf agrees, but I don't know. Outfits say so much about a person it's exhausting trying to decipher."

"Are you saying you just blindly choose your outfits?"

"Sometimes. While I'm here, Courf gave me a schedule of outfits to wear."

That sent Grantaire into a fit of giggles. "I'm dying to see an outfit chosen by you."

"Courfeyrac takes pictures when I wear something 'funny'.” He made adorably unsteady quotations with his fingers. “I wasn't allowed to bring my favorite clothes."

"Jesus, they must be so bad."

"I don't understand fashion," he huffed.

"It's all a matter of personal preference. Cosette's outfits are pretty good. Sometimes the Bachelorette is dressed up in some weird stuff by the production team."

"Mm, I liked her first dress. The shimmery one. Are dresses comfortable?"

"I think it depends on the dress. I wear skirts sometimes and they're pretty great, so long as they aren't too tight around the middle. I have some packed if you want to try one on. They'll probably be too big around the waist."

"Bring me the skirt!" Enjolras said a little too loudly, thrusting a fist into the air.

"Your wish is my command." he pushed Enjolras back into the chair with a soft “Oof.” and rushed up to his room where he slipped in and dragged his suitcase into the hall, pulling out a knee length black pleated skirt with which he returned to the living room.

"Here you go," he threw the skirt at Enjolras' face.

Enjolras did not remove the skirt, but held out his arms and Grantaire pulled him to his feet, where the lawyer pulled on a skirt and off his pants. He stood for a moment, leaning on Grantaire, a look of deep contemplation on his face as he tried to assess his feelings on this new article of clothing.

"Give us a twirl?" Grantaire teased. Enjolras pushed away from him, giving a surprisingly well coordinated spin, which he ended in a curtsy.

"That's it, Apollo," Grantaire laughed, "Let your hair down."

Enjolras pulled his hair from its bun, sending it falling in a curly mess.

"I meant metaphorically but sure. You have very pretty hair.” He flicked a curl out of his face.

Enjolras gave his lovely locks a good flip. "You can braid it if you want. Courfeyrac braids it sometimes. He says it makes me look like a girl."

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. "Is that a good or bad thing?"

He shrugged. "I'm a guy all the time. I never get to be a girl."

"You could be if you wanted to,” Grantaire said carefully, unsure of how seriously to take that.

"Mm."

Grantaire wasn't sure he was really listening. He was trying to comb his hands through his tangled hair.

"Stop that," Grantaire grabbed his hand, "Come here." He had Enjolras sit on the floor as he gently detangled his hair before scooping it up into a ponytail at the very top of his head. "There you go, very cute."

Enjolras tilted his head back, blinking owlishly at him. "Ready to conquer the dark forces of the universe?"

"Is the U.S. government really that powerful?"

"Them too."

"You and what army?"

"An army of the willing."

"And how many is that?"

"Currently, three including me. But I like my chances."

"Well, I wouldn't fight you."

"Good. We need you."

"That's not true. I would add nothing to your army. Unless you want some sweet tattoos, I have zero skills to offer."

"All that matters is your willingness to enact change."

"Fine, I’m listening,” he tapped the center of Enjolras’ forehead, “Give me your best sales pitch then."

"Grantaire," he turned, leaning forward and sliding his hands up Grantaire's thighs, making him squirm. "Would you join me in my fight against the oppressive powers that be?"

"Enjolras,” he laughed, “I think I'd say yes to just about anything right now. You have me in a mildly compromising position."

"Is that a yes then?"

"No, I am quite contrary.” He leaned back, arms crossed. “You're gonna have to seduce me with your words. Is there much point in fighting a battle like this?"

"You have to at least try,” he pouted.

"Oh well if that’s all, I’m sold. I will join your cause, but only because I want to see you try to succeed. Not because I think you'll get anywhere."

Enjolras made a frustrated noise. "Join for the cause, not for me."

"If you don't want me to join for you, then why _are_ you seducing me?"

"I'm not," he said with a huff, standing to throw himself onto the couch, a little too close to the other occupant.

"What does it matter why I join your hypothetical army? I'm still on your side."

"You're missing the point. You have to fight for what is right, no matter the cost."

"You'll end up dead if you keep going on like that."

"Then let me die a martyr."

"Okay, now I'm definitely joining up."

"Have my words finally roused you?"

"I am very roused. I will be joining as your personal body guard, to keep you from doing anything stupid like becoming a martyr."

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "I think I've demonstrated I can hold my own."

"What if there's a sneak attack?"

"Then-" Enjolras gasped as Grantaire began tickling his sides. He had an absolutely gorgeous laugh. He tried to shove Grantaire away, but the artist went boneless, dropping forward and laying across Enjolras chest as he tried to catch his breath.

He propped his chin on his hand. "You should laugh more often, Apollo."

Enjolras gave him a very open smile, breathing still somewhat unsteady. "I think maybe I should too. I'm beginning to see why I was encouraged to come."

"Glad it's working out for you."

"All part of the plan,” he said, wrapping his arms around Grantaire’s neck.

"The plan for world domination?"

"I'm not trying to take over the world!"

"You keep saying that. but I dunno."

Enjolras scowled and took hold of his face with both hands, squeezing lightly. "I wish I could just- Agh… words are… I can't make them work right."

"I think it's time for bed,” Grantaire said, though he was leaning into Enjolras hands, which were now bushing back his hair.

"I'm not going back to that room,” Enjolras grumbled.

"Why not?"

"I like it here better. Besides I won't be able to sleep anyway."

"Why not?"

"Not enough connections."

"…Does your brain run on wifi?"

"No, just-" he gave an ambiguous hand wave.

"Okay, sure, whatever that means. I'm going to stay and make sure you don't get into trouble or puke all over yourself."

"Sleep in the fort again?"

"Yes, let's get a drink of water first."

Enjolras drank as told and crawled into the fort, laying on his back. "I'm so tired."

"Anything I can do? I could go harass someone into getting you a phone for some white noise, or a sleep aid or whatever you want, just say the word."

"No, s'okay." He rubbed a hand over his face.

"I feel useless not doing anything... I could trace shapes into your back. That's what Eponine used to do to her little brother when he couldn't sleep."

“I guess it can’t hurt. How are we doing this?"

"Turn on your side,” Grantaire instructed.

"Alright." Enjolras did as told, facing the wall.

"Okay, we can do this over or under your shirt."

"Whatever is best."

"You can feel it more under." He pulled up the back of Enjolras shirt to the scarred skin below and began tracing shapes into his back, letting his nails skim his skin as they moved oh so carefully.

Enjolras gradually relaxed, giving a contented sigh ever so often. "Grantaire-" he said sleepily.

"Shh, just relax and try to sleep,” Grantaire soothed.

After a long while he drifted off under Grantaire's hands.

* * *

"There you are," Marius voice interrupted Grantaire's sleep. You guys have to get ready for your two on one."

"Right.” He turned over, having sprawled onto his back in his sleep. For a moment he thought Enjolras was still sleeping, but upon closer inspection, he was curled up, squeezing his eyes shut. He put a hand to his shoulder. "Enjolras, are you alright?"

He opened his eyes, slightly unfocused. "Yes, sorry. Just a headache."

"Did you get much sleep?

"A little."

"I can tell Jehan you aren't feeling well." Grantaire brushed the hair back from his pale face. His forehead wasn’t warm.

"No, I'll be fine," Enjolras sighed heavily before sitting up and pulling his hair out of his too high ponytail.

"You gonna wear the skirt?" Grantaire asked.

Enjolras looked down. "Yeah, I think I will. I'll just put some running leggings on under so I don't freeze my legs off."

"Meet you in like ten minutes." They parted ways to get ready.

When they met again, Enjolras was pulling his red hoody over a tight black shirt.

"Pick that out yourself, Apollo? Because you look fucking fantastic." And he did, despite his slightly sickly disposition.

"Thank you." Enjolras offered a sardonic smile.

Enjolras appeared to improve a bit over the car ride where they were driven to the same studio as they day before.

"Yes! Dancing again!"

"Hey guys!" Cosette bounded over, looking super cute in her exercise kit. "Love the outfit, Enjolras."

"Wait till he takes off the sweater," Grantaire swooned.

Enjolras shoved him. "You're supposed to be charming her, not me."

"But you make it so easy, Apollo." He winked at Cosette. "So, what are we doing today?"

"Well, it was all set up for us to be taught one on one dancing by an instructor, but due to the bad weather he couldn't make it so... I wanted to ask if there's anything you could teach us, R?"

"Cosette, you are a dream. What sort of dance do you want to learn?"

"Can you randomly select one that’s semi-easy? I don’t even know the names of basically any dances."

"Yes, I can. Right, to the middle of the room you two."

Soon enough they were getting into the swing of things.

Grantaire was demonstrating the technique for Enjorlas by dancing with Cosette. "Alright so, now we go in for the dip." He started to tilt her back.

"Wait wait wait." Cosette's back went stiff, "Uh, being dipped kind of freaks me out."

"What about it?"

"Bad childhood memory."

"You have bad childhood dance memories?"

"No, it sounds insane, but my foster mom would hold me by the front of my shirt and hang me over the back porch when she was annoyed with me. That's what being dipped makes me think of."

“That’s awful! How high up was the back porch?”

“High enough.”

"I'm sorry, you don't have to do it."

"No, I want to! Just-" she hesitated.

"Apollo, come here. We're going to take her through the dip slowly."

Grantaire dipped Enjorlas and held him there. "How do you feel?"

"A little light headed but fine."

"I tend to have that effect on people,” he grinned, “Do you feel like you're about to fall?"

"No, I have full confidence you'll keep me suspended."

Grantaire pulled him back up and held out a hand to Cosette. "Will you try if we take it slow?"

"Yes."

He took her through the progression of the dance again and slowly lowered her when it came time for the dip. Halfway down she started to panic and he pulled her up a bit. "How's that?"

"It's okay."

"We can stop if you want."

"No, maybe this is dumb, but I want to do it."

"It's not dumb. What if Enjolras held up your back?"

"Okay."

Enjolras placed his hands on her shoulders as they lowered her into a low dip.

She let out a nervous laugh and Grantaire pulled her back up.

"You did it!" Grantaire cheered, hugging her. "Get over here, E." He pulled Enjolras in as well.

"Well,” Cosette said breathlessly as they pulled back, “I had a great date, guys."

"Me too, I got to live out my dream of being a dance instructor, and dance with two beautiful blonds. It doesn't get any better than that."

"I also enjoyed this date and I have this for you." He pulled out a paper crane. "For your eyes only."

"Enjolras, you sneaky bitch! That's so romantic! I feel thoroughly upstaged."

"Well, you'll just have to try harder next time."

"Can you believe this guy?" Grantaire scoffed.

"I like you both very much," she enveloped them both in a hug, kissing both of their cheeks. "And I will read this later," she promised, holding the note between her fingers.

"So, what did you put in that note?" Grantaire asked as soon as they were back in the car.

"Just making my intentions clear."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Only time will tell."

"Fine, keep your secrets. I want my skirt back for the cocktail party."

"But I like this skirt,” Enjolras frowned.

"You can wear my other one, it's long and floral."

* * *

"I feel out of place," Marius said, pulling at his pants. Les Amis were standing around waiting for the cocktail party to officially start. They had been driven out to a museum and were essentially given free reign of the third floor, which contained the air and space and geology displays. Rocks and big machinery; nothing they could completely destroy by accident. At the main entrance to the floor there was a bar set up and music was playing in order to prevent awkward silences.

"Unfortunately, these are the only two skirts I brought or you could have joined the club,” Grantaire shrugged.

“Well, I appreciate the effort anyway.” Marius sighed, moving aside as Gueulemer stumbled into the room, soaked with rain. The team had had a bit of trouble getting him out of the bus. According to Marius, Gueulemer had begun his drinking rather early in the day and hadn’t been in a very cooperative mood in the first place. At least for now he wasn’t belligerent.

“Should we like walk around and look at stuff?” Marius asked, “I feel a little weird just standing around in the entrance.”

“I suppose so, although if we wait right here, we can probably be among the first to meet with Cosette.”

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Cosette said in a sing song voice, poking Grantaire in the center of his back, making him jump.

“You aren’t a devil,” Grantaire said, “Perhaps a demon, not a devil. You’re too sweet for that.”

“Maybe that’s just what I want you to think.”

“Then, up to this point, you were doing a good job of misleading. What can we do for you, madam devil?”

“Ah, right,” She turned to Enjolras. “Enjolras, will you accept this rose?” Cosette pulled a rose from her hair, as it had apparently been stabbed into her ponytail. “I found your note very compelling,” she grinned.

Enjolras smiled. “Of course, I am glad we understand each other.”

Marius gave a nervous twitch and Grantaire placed a hand on his shoulder.

“As am I. Also, I wanted to grab Marius before someone had a chance to steal me away.” Cosette looped an arm around Marius’ waist, making him blush.

“Aw,” Grantaire teased, “You take good care of him, young lady.”

Cosette stuck her tongue out at him and pulled Marius toward the rock displays.

“What kind of magic did you lace that note with? That’s two weeks in a row,” Grantaire shook his head. “You’re going to give Marius a stomach ulcer.”

“Marius will be fine.”

“For now. What’s say we explore a little?”

They wandered about until reaching the far corner of the air space display, which had very obviously been set up for the rose ceremony. Blue light shown down from the ceiling, casting pinprick stars over the ground. The music from the main area floating softly into the room, slow and sweet.

“Dance with me under the starlight, Apollo.” Grantaire said, spinning in the center of the floor.

Enjolras stepped forward, hands raised. “Just tell me what to do.”

“Nothing too complicated.” Grantaire said, placing Enjolras’ hands on his waist and placing his own on his shoulders. They swayed in time with the distant music. When he looked up into Enjolras’ face he was looking deadly serious.

Grantaire gave a startled laugh. "Jesus, why are you so terrifying?"

"How am I terrifying?"

"I don’t know, you just have this energy about you."

“Oh?” Enjolras’ expression intensified.

Grantaire laughed nervously. “Yeah, it’s a ‘don’t mess with me or I’ll burn you out of existence sort of vibe’.”

“I’m not sure how to take that.”

Grantaire wrapped his arms around Enjolras neck and kissed his cheek before resting their foreheads together. “Take it as a complement. You are absolutely perfect just as you are. Your enemies must fear you. You are a terrifying sight to behold, a vengeful angel. I’m shaking in my boots.”

“I don’t want _you_ to fear me.” Enjolras wrapped his arms around his torso.

“It’ll take a lot more than your scary face to frighten me off,” he whispered.

“But perhaps you should.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to fear me but perhaps you should,” he repeated.

“Why?” Grantaire’s heartrate jumped in a decidedly non-fearful sort of way, “What _exactly_ are you planning to do to me?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“I’ll go ahead and give you blanket permission to do whatever you want,” he leaned forward to whisper into Enjolras’ ear, “Do your very worst.”

“Not the reaction I was anticipating.”

“Well, if you want me to fear you, you shouldn’t have used such a sexy, mysterious tone.”

“A what?” he sounded adorably lost.

Grantaire spun them around and lowered Enjolras into a dip. “I’m just saying I have no sense of self-preservation.” He winked as the song ended. “Shall we continue our tour?”

Enjolras watched him carefully but took his hand as they carried on.

When they reached the rocks Grantaire caught sight of Bahorel for the first time that night.

 “Bahorel! You have returned to us!”

“Of course, I take my job very seriously.”

“Is the house alright.”

“I mean, the yard is underwater but I guess I have a mote now.”

“All you need are some crocodiles or a dragon to defend you.”

“Exactly! So, how are you holding up? I’ve been hearing some rumors about you and Enjolras…” He glanced between the two of them.

“I wouldn’t put too much stock into rumor,” Grantaire warned.

“I dunno, I’ve got a good feeling about these ones.”

“What have you heard?”

“Yeah, what have you heard?” Gueulemer injected a little too loudly. He was standing a few feet away, grabbing another drink.

“Hey, this isn’t your conversation,” Grantaire said evenly.

“Because I heard,” he stumbled over. “I heard-“

“I don’t want to know what you’ve heard,” Grantaire scowled.

“Too bad! I heard that you’re—” He jabbed a finger in Grantaire’s face, “In _love_ with him.” He directed his finger toward Enjolras who looked like he was considering biting it.

“Oh, is that all?” Grantaire snorted, “That isn’t nearly as bad as I was expecting.”

“Also, that you’ve been blowing him in your little blanket fort.”

The artist gave an involuntary bark of laughter. “Like while everyone else is around?”

“Yeah, you fucking deviant.”

“I don’t think I’d be comfortable with that,” Enjolras grimaced.

“What you’re not interested in having semi-public sex with me, Apollo?” Grantaire said, kissing the back of his hand, which he was still holding. “I am deeply, deeply offended.”

“He’s just trying to salvage his potential political career,” Bahorel soothed, patting Grantaire on the shoulder.

“Right, television. Film crews. Must protect the kinks.”

“I am removing myself from this conversation,” Enjolras rolled his eyes, pulling back but taking Grantaire’s hand with him.

“Hang on there, I didn’t hear a denial of that first accusation,” Bahorel pressed.

“I don’t respond to the petty rumors of my enemies,” Grantaire grinned.

“Shit.”

Grantaire glanced over to see Gueulemer standing a few steps away, staring at his own blood covered hand. His nose was bleeding.

“Are you alright?” Bahorel asked, stepping closer.

Gueulemer, who had gone suddenly pale, opened and closed his mouth twice before crumbling to the floor. Bahorel caught him before he could fall on his face. He was only unconscious for a few moments, during which an ambulance was called for. Blood continuing to leak from his nose, forming a small puddle around his head. Ten minutes later he was being carried off on a stretcher.

“Another casualty of the Bachelorette,” Grantaire murmured as Gueulemer disappeared, “At least this one was a dickhead.”

“You’re not going to have an existential crisis over this one?” Enjolras asked, his face drawn.

“I don’t think he’s worth it, to be honest.”

“Everyone follow me,” Bahorel said, motioning everyone into the space section.

They went straight into the rose ceremony. Grantaire held his breath at the elimination process began, but was the third to accept his rose, just behind Marius. Only six contestants remained: Les Amis and the remaining members of Patron-Minette. Cosette had not elected to save a rose for Gueulemer despite his sudden fall, which was deliciously savage.

It was nearly two in the morning by the time they arrived back at the house. Enjolras sat heavily on the couch, looking worn down.

"You’re not sleeping on the couch tonight,” Grantaire warned him.

“Am I not?”

"You can stay in my room, everyone else has been eliminated. We can invite Marius too."

"Okay." He did not make a move to get up.

"Hey, Marius, you wanna switch to my room?” he called into the kitchen, “Everyone else is gone."

"Yes!” Marius poked his head into the room. “Thank you! I was going to be stuck alone with Claquesous, and he freaks me out. He looks at me like he’s sizing up the price of my organs." Claquesous was a nurse, which was pretty fucking ominous in combination with the very dead behind the eyes look about him.

"There shall be no organ theft tonight,” Grantaire declared. “Alrighty, Amis, we are going to bed early everyone. Let's go. Up, Apollo! Don’t make me carry you."

They trecked their way upstairs and half an hour later Marius was dead asleep, his steady breathing seeming very loud in contrast to nothing else.

"Still awake?" Grantaire asked softly into the darkened room.

"Yes," Enjolras replied.

Grantaire stood and sat on the side of Enjolras’ bed. "Anything I can do?"

"No, it's alright."

"I seemed to help at least a bit last night."

"I suppose you did," he said noncommittally.

"You can say no."

"No, it's fine. I'm sorry, I'm just irritable."

"And I'm being irritating."

"You're not. I’m glad you’re trying to help.”

"Why do you think you can’t sleep? Last night you claimed it was a lack of connections, whatever that means."

"I think I meant that I feel better in close proximity to Courfeyrac and Combeferre. It's not often that I'm so isolated from them."

"You're homesick."

"Not exactly homesick. It just makes me a bit... On edge knowing they're not close by."

"Do you actually live with them?"

"They live together, my apartment is beside theirs, but we might as well live together."

"How long have you known them?"

"For as long as I can remember. They're my chosen family."

"That I can understand. Sorry to keep bothering you. I guess I should let you try to sleep."

"Hang on.” Enjolras grabbed the hem of his shirt. “You were right, you did help last night. I think perhaps another person's presence is somewhat comforting."

"I'm glad to be a human pillow, if that’s what you’re after,” he said, only half joking.

"Climb over me."

Surprised, he carefully climbed over the blond.

Enjolras inched closer, but did not touch him.

"I don't bite, Apollo,” Grantaire promised.

Hesitantly, Enjolras put his head on Grantaire shoulder and tipped his face upward, a little too close to the artist’s face. It wouldn't have taken much to kiss him. Instead Grantaire pulled the blankets over them and wrapped his arms around the lawyer.

"Night, Enjolras" Grantaire said softly, hoping Enjolras didn't notice his racing heartbeat.

"Goodnight, R." Enjolras curled a hand into the fabric of his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let guys wear skirts. Skirts are great. I'm wearing a skirt right now. 
> 
> One of my outline notes for this chapter was "too fucking gay to read" and I don't remember what it was in reference but you tell I was feeling combative while writing this haha
> 
> I couldn't not insert a little drunk e ;-) next chapter is probs my fav but this one is pretty fun bc r is literally dying inside. My man, control your thirst, your time shall come.
> 
> Thanks.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R worries

Upon waking, Grantaire’s first thought was that he didn't have to get up all day. With only six contestants remaining, Cosette would be going on three one-on-ones on that day, and then a three-on-one involving himself, Marius and Enjolras tomorrow. He could hardly believe he'd made it so far.

Having eased back into awareness, Grantaire moved his head to see that Enjolras was already awake, still tucked against his side. His eyes flicked up as Grantaire shifted.

"How did you sleep?" Grantaire asked keeping his voice low and pulling back slightly.

Enjolras’ eyes drifted away. "I don't think I did. Not much at least."

Grantaire smoothed the hair from the other man’s face, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, which still was not warm. If anything, it felt slightly cool in alignment with the rest of the room. "I'm sorry," he whispered into his hair, "Anything I can do?"

"I don't think so," Enjolras said, ducking his face against Grantaire's shoulder.

Grantaire rolled onto his side and wrapped an arm around the blond, rubbing circles into his back. "Seriously, if you need something just say so. I'm sure the crew would understand, even if you choose to duck out of here. Or see a doctor…"

For a moment Enjolras didn’t say anything. "No, thank you. I'm fine. I'll be fine," he finally said, but there was tension in his voice.

"Okay, just relax. Breathe a little."

He huffed but did ease up a bit. "You're so warm," he muttered after a few moments of silence, filled only by the soft sound of Marius’ breathing.

"Are you cold?"

"Bad circulation."

"Lucky for you, I am a human furnace."

Grantaire took the lawyer’s cool fingertips, pulled up the hem of his shirt and pressed them to his side, hissing as they touched his exposed skin.

Enjolras smiled weakly, "Don't cause yourself discomfort on my behalf."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all. You are supposed to be relaxing and one can hardly relax when one is freezing to death.”

“You exaggerate.”

“You refuse to relax.”

“I am very relaxed.”

“Then you don’t have an overwhelming desire to start writing in your little notebook?”

“For the moment I am content.” And tired and pained as he looked, Grantaire did not doubt the truth of his statement.

“Then let us capitalize on your contentment and do nothing.”

“Do nothing and talk politics?” Enjolras asked hopefully.

“Politics in bed; you kill me, Apollo,” he groaned, “Fine, but no shouting. You’ll wake the baby.” He nodded toward Marius’ bed.

“I’ll keep my shouting to a whisper,” Enjolras promised.

They laid about until nearly twelve, spending their time quietly arguing as Grantaire played with Enjolras’ hair. When Marius finally woke, they went downstairs for ‘breakfast’ where Enjolras ate no more than half an apple, despite Grantaire's fretting.

“Do you guys want to go outside?” Marius asked, staring out the window. The weather had cleared somewhat, it was now only ominous and cloudy, no longer raining.

“Sure, not like we have anything better to do,” Grantaire shrugged, “You in, E?”

Enjolras nodded, getting to his feet. His movements were slow and slightly off, Grantaire wondered if he was in more pain than just his head.

“You don’t have to go,” Grantaire said softly as they were putting their coats on.

“I’m fine,” Enjolras insisted, taking Grantaire’s hand as he offered it and following him out the back door.

Marius was already flitting about the bushes, having expressed a desire to flip over rocks and search for toads, Feuilly tracking him with a camera. However, the first thing Grantaire noticed was the dead grass, sickly brown and yellow, stretching away from the house where he was fairly certain it had not been in the days before.

"How is the grass dead? It's been raining so much,” he noted, poking at the grass.

“Could be too much rain,” Enjolras said.

“Then why is it only dead here?”

“Maybe something’s leaching out from the house,” Marius said, wading through a circle of bushes along the side of the building.

“Should we tell someone?” Grantaire wondered.

“I’ll let someone know,” Feuilly nodded.

Grantaire gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up before his gaze shifted, as it was wont to do, onto Enjolras. The lawyer was staring at the grass, lost in thought, his mind apparently a million miles away.

“What is it?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras startled, his eyes snapping back to focus. “What?”

"I was just wondering what you were thinking about. Are you sure you're okay?” Grantaire asked cautiously, “You seem a little... Off."

"It's nothing, I just-“

"I found a dead bird!" Marius exclaimed, popping out from behind a bush and drawing the others closer. At his feet there was a dead crow. Shockingly its neck did not look broken though it was lying in a sprawl, and it was not beneath a window.

"I wonder what killed it." Grantaire frowned, “It must have hit the side of the house or something. Or maybe it died of old age.” He wasn’t sure how old birds typically lived to and he honestly wasn’t sure what he would do if he saw a bird drop dead out of the blue.

"We could dissect it," Enjolras offered, sounding just a little too sincere.

"No,” Grantaire said, “if you dissect a bird in this house, they will make you look like a serial killer. I can see the political attack ads now. We need to have a bird funeral, it’ll gain sympathy with the animal lovers.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “What are you, my campaign manager?”

“There’s no time to discuss what I am or am not, I can hear poll numbers dropping already. Marius, go get your recorder, the time has come!"

"Really?" Marius asked.

"Yes, you think I would joke about something as serious as this? A bird is dead, man! Feuilly, do you know where the shovels are?"

"Check the back closet."

"Thank you. Alright, let’s do this."

“What am I doing?” Enjolras asked.

“You,” Grantaire poked his forehead, “Find a place to bury the bird.”

Within a few minutes, Grantaire had found a shoe box and some shovels. When he returned to the scene of the death, he flipped the bird into the box and traveled over to the rose bush where Enjolras had chosen to place the grave.

A shallow hole was dug and Marius played the star-spangled banner as they all stood in ceremony, hands over hearts.

"Does anyone have any parting words for our noble friend?" Grantaire asked when the song had ended.

Enjolras opened his mouth but Grantaire stopped him. “Not you, I can already tell you’re going to say something insensitive. Don’t glare at me, I’m saving you from yourself.”

"I do," Feuilly stepped forward, placing a hand on the shoebox. "Rest in peace, you majestic bastard. I hope you're stealing food from the angels in another plane of existence.”

"That was beautiful, Feuilly. Anyone else? No? Fine, farewell and safe travels, little friend. Now we lower the body." Grantaire removed the lid and rolled the crow into the hole, carefully patting the dirt back into place. "Well, there we go." He stood, hands on hips.

With the funeral at its end, they returned to exploring the garden, Marius playing his recorder as he dipped in and out of the bushes. Grantaire forced Enjolras to sit on a bench rather than dragging him about, he was attempting to start a flower crown when Marius’s recorder made a shrill sound.

"There's another one!" Marius cried when the others neared, indicating another dead bird, this one small and brown. It had fallen on top of the bushes and had been dislodged by Marius’ movements.

"More than one," Enjolras had climbed on top of a nearby bench and was gazing down the line of bushes. “It looks like they’ve rolled off the roof.”

Grantaire climbed the bench to have a look for himself and sure enough there were a number of birds laying atop the bushes, some in the grass, other still laying in the gutter and on the roof itself. "What the fuck." Grantaire breathed.  "I suppose we will have to make a mass grave then.

They buried twelve birds retrieved from all around the house, the remainder they could not reach. Shockingly, of all of them Enjolras seemed the most distressed to find them. He kept staring at the poor dead things like he was trying his hardest to understand why the life had left them and leaned in when Grantaire placed am arm around his waist.

“Alright?” Grantaire asked quietly as Marius played a final farewell to the last buried bird.

Enjolras nodded silently, still looking distressed.

"Hey, Feuilly,” Grantaire asked when the song had finished, “Is there anything weird going on out there in the real world?"

The cameraman made a face. "Why do you ask?"

"Uh well, there are all these dead birds and there are a bunch of dead snails on the roof. It's just a little weird."

"What were you doing on the roof?"

"I wasn't on the roof, don’t jump to conclusions,” Grantaire said hastily, “You’re avoiding the question.”

Feuilly let the lie pass. "I haven't heard anything too weird, just that the weather's been pretty unseasonably cold and terrible, but then I don't really pay attention to what goes on while we’re filming. Maybe there's a coming earthquake or something, that's why all the animal weirdness."

"I think the animals usually freak out before earthquakes, not drop dead.”

"Then I have no idea."

"Hey, Marius,” Grantaire called over, “In what way do animals freak out before earthquakes."

"Um, well-" Marius sneezed, spattering blood everywhere.

“Holy shit! Are you okay!?” Grantaire demanded as Marius held a hand to his face in a feeble attempt to stop the blood.

“Yeah, just a nosebleed,” Marius managed, starting toward the house.

Once inside, Marius was handed a fistful of paper towels and tipped his head back. The bleeding stopped within a few minutes, much to everyone’s relief.

“Well, that was exciting,” Grantaire sniffed, his breath catching in a cough.

"Now, _your_ nose is bleeding." Enjolras said.

Grantaire rubbed his nose and found it was in fact bleeding.

"So, it is." He walked over to grabbed a paper towel for himself. The bleeding wasn’t nearly as bad as Marius’. “Feuilly, there hasn’t been some sort of chemical spill on the property, has there? This is the third nosebleed in less than twenty-four hours and it’s not even dry out.”

“If there has been, they haven’t told me about it. Besides, Enjolras and I aren’t bleeding and we’ve been hanging out with you this whole time.”

Grantaire made an unhappy sound. “I don’t like it, seems fishy.” He pulled the paper towel away from his nose to find that the bleeding had stopped.

“I’ll go ask my bosses right now,” Feuilly said, lowering his camera and walking off.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Grantaire called after him.

And with that, the remaining three moved into the living room. Grantaire handed Marius a sheet of paper that he began folding into a crane and Enjolras was forced to lay down on the couch, Grantaire sitting at his feet and drawing little sketches of birds. It was some time before he looked up and saw Enjolras staring at him. "What?" he asked in surprise.

"Nothing..." Enjolras said, though his gaze did not waver.

"Are you sure? Because you look like you’re trying to needle me apart with your eyes.”

"I just... How do you feel?"

"Well, you're making me a little nervous, but other than that I’m okay."

This did nothing to clear the worry from Enjolras' face and he did look suddenly very worried. His brow furrowed as he tried to read Grantaire’s expression.

"Enjolras, I promise I'm fine,” Grantaire said, setting his sketchbook aside to lay down beside the blond, resting his head against his shoulder. “What's going on?"

“I…” he seemed to struggle with something.

“E, you’re gonna have to use your words, I’m not a mind reader.”

"I wish you were,” the blond huffed, “That would make everything a lot easier."

"I don't know if R could handle reading your mind," Marius glanced over at them.

"That's probably true. Your idealism would overwhelm me.” He grabbed Enjolras’ hand and kissed its back. “Now, what’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” Montparnasse asked, popping into the room. He was still wearing his jacket, so he had most likely just returned from his one-on-one.

“None of your business.” Grantaire snapped, automatically.

“I was just trying to be a part of the gang,” Montparnasse said snidely, “You two look very comfortable.” He gave the two on the couch a pointed look.

“Marius, Montparnasse is being a dick, grab your recorder.”

Marius grabbed his recorder and lifted it to his mouth where he hesitated. “You want me to—?”

“Play man!”

Marius began to play yankee doodle.

“You’re going to play overtop of me? That’s rather childish. I suppose you don’t want to hear how my date went then. We had a lovely time—” Montparnasse spoke loudly over the music.

“Louder Marius!”

Marius raised the volume.

“—And when it was over, I kissed—"

Marius blew out a screechy tone and Montparnasse clasped his hands over his ears. “Alright! Enough! I’m going!” he shouted, exiting the room. “You guys are the worst!”

“Marius, you are the most talented musician I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

“I… Thanks,” Marius said, sounding rather resigned.

They spent a good portion of the afternoon laying about and helping Marius figure out how to play different songs on his screechy little instrument, pausing only when Feuilly returned to tell them that as far as he could tell there had not been any kind of chemical spill on the property.

* * *

At the end of the night they returned to Grantaire’s room. Marius had worked himself into exhaustion worrying over Cosette, despite constant insistence that she had eyes only for him. He slumped into his bunk. Grantaire made to do the same, but Enjolras pulled him into his bed instead. As soon as the artist laid down, Enjolras latched to him. Cool forehead pressed against the back of his neck.

"You okay, E?" Grantaire asked once Marius’ breathing had evened out.

"Yeah..."

He shivered, there were cold fingertips pressed against his arm. "You sure? You don’t sound okay."

"I... I don't know that I should continue to stay here."

Grantaire’s heart dropped. "You don’t have to. You can leave anytime you want. Just say the word."

"But I don't want to go..."

Grantaire desperately wanted to ask why, but held his tongue. "Don’t stay if you think it’s a bad idea."

"I wouldn’t call it a bad idea necessarily… Well, perhaps it is, but I don't know that I would do any good by leaving either."

"How about this: stay for one more day and if by the end of tomorrow you want to leave, you're either going to be eliminated or go home anyway for the hometowns." After this round of eliminations, they would be leaving the mansion to fly out so that Cosette could meet the families of her four remaining suitors.

"Your logic is sound."

"For once." Grantaire turned in to face him, wrapping his arms around the taller man. "Try to get some sleep, Apollo,” he sighed heavily.

“What is it?” Enjolras asked, having apparently read something more into his exhalation.

“Nothing, I just wish I could reshape the universe so that you wouldn’t be in pain.”

“That’s too much power to have over a person,” Enjolras argued softly.

Grantaire hummed, “That would make me R, the great and powerful. Vanquisher of pain and sorrow. Clear skies and smiles for the rest of eternity for one Enjolras.”

“What point is there going on without free will? You can’t force a person to be happy.”

“No, I suppose not. Though you’ve brought up an interesting idea. Are you saying that if I were all powerful, it would be immoral of me to make the people happy and by extension, stop terrible things from happening?”

“I’m just looking at the big picture. If you take control of the population, you aren’t addressing existing problems, you overriding the personalities of the individuals, rewriting their wills. I just think it’s creepy.”

“Well, some people could use their wills rewritten.”

Enjolras made a sound like he wanted to argue, but grimaced instead, pressing a hand to his forehead.

Grantaire sighed, rubbing Enjolras arm soothingly, wishing with all his heart that he could do more until he could resist sleep no longer.

* * *

One of the producers woke them all around eleven and forced them down to breakfast, which appeared to be intentionally light. Grantaire was a little distracted worrying over Enjolras who appeared to have grown only more sickly and pale in the night and refused to eat anything.

The three of them were told to remain in the kitchen, surrounded by an assortment of baking utensils, until Cosette appeared around twelve.

"Hey, guys,” she smiled, “So, we are doing this here since the weather is bad." She motioned to the window where the rain thrashed the glass. Another storm had started in the early morning. Cosette paused, her eyes catching on Enjolras. "Enjolras, you look awful."

"He's having bad headaches." Grantaire said. He was standing behind the seated blond, rubbing his shoulders. Enjolras' head fell back against his chest.

"Do you want to lay down?" Cosette asked, coming around to place the back of her hand against his forehead, and frowning at his lack of temperature.

"No, I'll be fine,” he assured her.

“He refuses to rest,” Grantaire complained.

“I don’t like being out of the loop.”

“I’ll put you out of the loop,” Grantaire grumbled, though he was running his finger along Enjolras’ exposed neck, petting him like a snake.

"Grantaire you are too sweet,” Cosette said, “If Enjolras didn't look like death I'd say you two were adorable."

"Tell that to Montparnasse,” Marius said under his breath.

"What?” Cosette asked, looking to Grantaire, “Is he bothering you?”

“No.” Grantaire gave Marius a ‘don’t be a tattle-tale’ look.

“No,” Marius echoed, then wavered as Cosette stared him down. "Maybe."

“If he’s being-“

“Don’t worry about it. Montparnasse is a dick, but he’s just trying to be a nuisance. If it was something to worry about, we would tell you,” Grantaire assured, "Now, what are we making? I assume there’s a reason for all this material.” He indicated the cooking supplies scattered across the room.  

Cosette gave him an unhappy look, but let the issue pass. "Dark chocolate cherry cake."

"An excellent choice."

They cooking wasn’t nearly as disastrous as Grantaire had anticipated. For the most part Grantaire, who was a fairly proficient cook, let Cosette and Marius make a mess of things. Marius took the lead on cooking and he and Cosette were unbearably adorable working together. However, when it came to decorating there was not a smidge of artistic talent between them. So Grantaire helped in the decoration as requested, keeping close to Enjolras. In the end decorating was a disaster and the cake looked like a monstrosity.

"Cherry?" Grantaire held out a pitted cherry to Enjolras as the other two put the finishing touches on their cake.

"Not hungry,” Enjolras mumbled.

“Apollo, you have to eat _something_. You barely ate anything yesterday and you didn't have breakfast."

Enjolras gave him an unfocused look, but took the cherry and ate it with a grimace. "Happy?"

"No," Grantaire brushed back his hair. "I won’t be happy until you feel better." Their eyes met as he spoke and Grantaire felt he'd said too much. He ducked his head, but before he could retreat, Enjolras grabbed his hand and kept him close.

Grantaire kept his eyes on their interlocked hands, slightly afraid to look up. He wanted to say something, he wasn’t exactly sure what, but the words were caught in his throat.

Not long after that, the power went out again, though it had stopped raining and Cosette was whisked away to prepare for the cocktail party. The party was decided to be a casual affair. Pajamas only. Feuilly was given the task of making a run to the store to buy some themed pajamas for everyone.

Enjolras was given batman pajamas, at Grantaire’s request.

“Superman would be more fitting,” Grantaire had said, “But I like the idea of you running around delivering vigilante justice.”

While Grantaire himself had suggested some “Sweet hello kitty pajamas." Though he’d immediately had to ditch the shirt for a black tank top, given that it was far too tight.

Marius hadn’t indicated a preference and so had been given monkey covered pajama pants and seemed quite pleased.

Enjolras appeared to be doing better by the time everyone had gathered in the living room. They had the generator running the lights for the cameras.  

"I feel like we're having a slumber party,” Montparnasse laughed, “Do we get to paint each other’s nails and share secrets?"

"I can run and get some nail polish if you want,” Cosette said.

"I can do little nail designs,” Grantaire chirped.

Cosette grinned at him with intent. "I'll be back."

She returned with an assortment of nail polishes.

"Everyone pick a color and a partner."

Grantaire nudged Enjolras. "Pick a color, Apollo."

"Red."

"We'll do sparkly red. And I'll take black, like my soul. You do mine first so you don't have to worry about smudging."

Enjolras’ hands were steady enough that in the end Grantaire’s nails didn’t look too disastrous.

Overtop of Enjolras’ sparkly red nails were painted the letters: from left pinky to thumb A-P-O-L-LO in white with little spiral suns on his right fingers.  

After having finished Enjolras’ nails, Cosette wanted little chicks painted over her sparkly sky blue. Marius appreciated his sparkly light green nails as Grantaire gave himself rainbow poke dots.

"Well, this was fun,” Cosette laughed, “Should we play truth or dare next?"

"What about never have I ever?" Marius said nervously.

Grantaire grinned. "That's coward talk, Marius."

"I think it's a good idea,” Babet said, “I’d rather be in control of the truths I share while filmed.”

“Right, I keep forgetting there’s a camera crew here watching our every move,” Grantaire snorted.

“Actually, we need to let everyone have their last chance to talk with Cosette,” said one of the camera operators.

“Let’s go then. Who’s first?”

 stood and the two wandered off.

There was an awkward silence as they left.

“So, not many people left,” Montparnasse said, blowing at his bright pink nails. “Think you’ll make it through, Marius?”

“Why are you asking me?” Marius asked nervously.

“Because he wants to pick on you,” Grantaire said, grabbing Marius by the arm and pulling him toward the exit. “Come on, let’s avoid the creepy vet.”

“Who are you calling creepy?” Montparnasse called after them, Enjolras having followed the two of them into the kitchen where they remained until the rose ceremony was set to begin. The ceremony was held on the back porch, and though the rain had stopped, thunder rumbled above them.

Grantaire found himself a bit nervous. His heart climbed its way into his throat as Marius, then Enjolras, then Claquesous were all called forward until he stood beside Montparnasse and Babet.

"Grantaire,” Cosette finally said, “Will you accept this rose?"

Grantaire released an unsteady laugh, stepping forward. "Of course."

"Hang on," Montparnasse cut in. “I'm sorry, but _Grantaire_ does not deserve to continue on."

"Excuse me?" Cosette demanded, the rose hanging between them, unpinned.

"Grantaire only wants to stay because he's an attention whore and he wants to fuck Enjolras. He’s not here for the right reasons. Send me home if you want, but I think you should know."

Grantaire gaped at him, not entirely sure what to say that wouldn't be a colossal lie. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I'm just trying to protect Cosette from heartbreak. You have been all over Enjolras for days and-"

"Montparnasse, that's enough,” Cosette snapped, “I think I can sort out Grantaire's intentions for myself."

"But-"

"Shut up.” She turned back to the artist. “Grantaire, will you accept this rose?" she repeated.

"Of course, and just so we're on the same page, I would never ever do anything I thought would hurt you."

"I know." Cosette smiled, kissing him on the cheek as Montparnasse stormed into the house.

"You made it through!" Marius breathed once Grantaire was in the living room.

"Barely, Montparnasse tried to get me eliminated like a dick.”

“I saw him walk in, for a second I thought he made it through.”

“Nope, you continue to be stuck with me. And now if I may rhyme: where’s E?"

"Kitchen."

Sure enough, Enjolras was seated at the counter. He smiled weakly as Grantaire approached. “Jehan wants you for your interview, he’s in the side room down the hall.”

“He told you I was getting through then?”

“Apparently, I looked worried.”

Grantaire squeezed his hand before wandering off to find Jehan.

"Hey, R,” Jehan grinned mischievously as he entered the room.

"Jehan." Grantaire took the seat positioned in front of the camera Feuilly was wielding.

"Do you have anything to say to Montparnasse?" Jehan asked.

"Okay, we’re just jumping right in then. I have nothing to say to Montparnasse, he's an asshole."

"Nothing to say about his claims?" Jehan pressed.

"Well, I'm always a slut for attention and I think my actions speak for themselves."

"Meaning what?"

"Interpret that as you will."

"Alright then. You've made it to the final four and you haven’t been kissed on the mouth. That’s pretty unique for this show. How do you feel about not getting a real kiss so far into the season? Unless you've been kissing Enjolras behind our backs."

He snorted, "I have not."

"Would you though?"

"Would I kiss Enjolras?"

"Yes."

He shrugged, "If he didn't mind."

"Do you think he would?”

"Should we see?" He pushed himself from the chair and walked to the door, poking his head out into the hall. Enjolras was still sitting at the kitchen counter looking miserable.

"Hey, Enj, can you come here for a second?" he motioned the blond forward.

Enjolras stood slowly and made his way to Grantaire who returned to his seat in front of the camera. "Yes?" Enjolras asked, leaning an arm on his far shoulder for support. Feuilly panned the camera up so that they were both in frame.

Grantaire smiled up at him, placing an arm around his waist. "The team is asking if I would have a problem kissing you. And I said not if you didn't. So, they asked if I thought you would mind."

"Ah," Enjolras said, leaning down to peck Grantaire on the lips for the briefest fraction of a second, "Is that what they wanted?"

Grantaire gave a nervous laugh, "I think that's more than they could have wished for."

"Am I free to go then?" he looked to Jehan.

"Yes, off with you,” the producer giggled.

Once Enjolras departed, Grantaire slumped back into his chair, running a hand over his face, unable to suppress his smile.

"Alright there, R? Remember to breathe."

"Shut up, Jehan. I know this is somehow your fault."

"I have no idea what you mean,” Jehan grinned deviously, “Do you think that counts as cheating?"

"Nah, that was just making good television.”

"You know we can’t use that line."

"Fine, I'll bring it up to Cosette and let her decide." He shrugged carelessly.

"And you don't think you just proved Montparnasse's point?"

"My actions speak for themselves." he repeated, though he thought his smile may have gone a bit too wide.

Once everyone had gone through their interviews, they were all set at the table to figure out the hometown visits. The plan was to fly out to Cleveland first thing in the morning. From there they would meet Grantaire and Enjolras’ families. They were bringing along Marius and Claquesous because it was less expensive to rent out a hotel room for them than keep them in the house another night. After Cleveland they would drive to Ann Arbor for Claquesous’s hometown and then fly to Boston for Marius’. And with that settled, the crew departed for bed. They had only a few hours to sleep before their flight.

"Ready to go back home, Marius?" Grantaire asked once the crew had moved off.

"I'm gonna miss you guys,” Marius frowned. “I'm going to be all isolated in my hotel room.”

"Grow the fuck up," Claquesous grumbled from across the room. “Ow! What the hell?!” Claquesous was rubbing his forehead and for a moment Grantaire was unsure of what had just happened before picked up the spoon that had fallen onto his lap and hurled it back at Enjolras. Enjolras ducked out of the way before it made contact.

Claquesous then made a grab for wooden spoon on the counter as Enjolras grabbed a spare wineglass, which Grantaire swiftly pulled from his hand. “Enough,” he said even as Claquesous threw the spoon, which bounced off Grantaire’s head. “Ow. Enjolras, no!” he grabbed Enjolras around the waist as he tried to lunge for something else to throw. With some effort and help from Marius, he pulled the blond from the room.

"Are you alright?" Grantaire asked as he watched Enjolras pant for breath.

"I-" he clenched his jaw and put a hand to his head. "Can we go somewhere without cameras?"

"Sure.” He looked to Marius.

“I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” he said, heading off.

“Alright, somewhere without cameras. Hang on. You need to lay down."

Grantaire grabbed a flashlight and an armful of pillows and blankets, dragging them into the bathroom with the big tub, laying them in a nest in at the foot of the bathtub. He then laid down and waited for Enjolras to follow suit, which he did. The blond was shivering slightly, the room around them bordered on cold. Grantaire wrapped Enjolras in a blanket, pulling his back against his chest. "Alright?" he asked.

Enjolras nodded.

He tried to move his hands under Enjolras' sweater to keep them warm, but they ended up below his shirt, meeting his warm, uneven skin. Enjolras cringed at his touch and he drew back.

"Sorry," Grantaire breathed, "I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine, your hands are just cold." Enjolras brought his hands back and held them in place, as if trying to press his warmth into his skin.

They laid quietly for a moment before Enjolras let his hands go and Grantaire began tracing shapeless forms into his stomach as Enjolras leaned into him.

"Are you really okay?" he asked gently.

"Yeah, I just need to be away from... Everything for a bit," he said unconvincingly.

"Do you want me to go?"

Enjolras shifted. "No."

"Should I at least shut up?"

"No, keep talking. I need a distraction."

"Okay,” he hesitated a moment, “Well, I think you made Jehan's day by kissing me," he whispered into the blonde’s hair.

"Bahorel high fived me after my interview," he spoke with a smile.

"I didn't think you actually would," Grantaire confessed, "I thought you would just say something slightly suggestive or I don't know..."

He shrugged. "It seemed the appropriate choice at the time. I hope that it wasn't too awkward, I've never kissed anyone before."

Grantaire’s hands stilled. "Never?"

"Never."

That threw Grantaire for a loop, Enjolras had said that he wasn’t particularly romantically inclined, but he hadn’t thought he was _that_ inexperienced. "Enjolras!” he cried in outrage, “I'm sorry for pushing you into it." He made to move away again but was stopped.

"I didn't mind."

"Your first kiss should have been special, not for tv drama!"

"Grantaire, I don’t care."

"Still, I'm sorry your first kiss had to be me." he scoffed.

"I'm not. I'd do it again."

"Well, no one's stopping you," he sassed before his brain caught up with him and by that time Enjolras had turned in his hold, face lined in shadows as he turned from the light of the torch Grantaire had set in the middle of the room. He paused for a moment before moving forward to press their lips together. His lips were cool from the cold of the room. He lingered for only a second before drawing back.

"There, you are my first and now my second," he said in a matter-o-fact tone.

"And your third?" Grantaire leaned forward and Enjolras met him halfway. Grantaire let his eyes fall closed, gently taking control of the kiss, his lips moving slowly then faster at Enjolras’ nonverbal insistence, what he lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm.

When Grantaire's tongue traced his lower lip, the lawyer made a sound of surprise, but allowed his mouth to open as he dragged Grantaire closer, until he was half on top of him. Enjolras had on hand threaded into Grantaire’s hair and the other clasping the front of his shirt in a death grip.

When Grantaire pulled away for air, Enjolras eyes were dark, hooded, and as intense as ever in the dim light. His chest rose and fell with the rapidity of his breathing.  

"Fuck, you're beautiful," Grantaire laughed shakily.

Enjolras rolled his eyes.

Grantaire grinned at his annoyance. "Don’t roll your eyes, I wasn’t finished. You’re beautiful and you have a fucking sexy mind. It's frustrating and I don't understand it, but god, I could listen to you talk for a thousand years."

"And not interrupt me?" Enjolras asked dubiously.

"Oh, you've got me there," he said lowly, "I would interrupt." He pressed a kiss high on Enjolras cheek. "I would distract." A kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And I would argue.” A kiss to the corner of his jaw. "For my lips do not know the meaning of stillness," he spoke against Enjolras throat, giving him a light nip.

Enjolras' inhaled sharply before he pulled him back, kissing him so desperately that Grantaire only had time to give a single laugh before the very concept of language was pushed from his brain.

After a blissful moment of being thoroughly kissed, something shifted. Enjolras made a sound that raised Grantaire’s hackles. Something a little too sharp and a little too close to a cry. Grantaire pulled back, Enjolras whining in his absence or perhaps in pain as he brought a hand to his face, expression pinching.

"Alright there?" Grantaire asked.

"Fine," Enjolras retorted trying to pull him back.

Grantaire gave him a quick kiss, but immediately retreated again. "Slow down. We’re going a little fast." Grantaire said rolling back onto his side.

Enjolras put his forehead to Grantaire's shoulder. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I just don't want you to jump from zero to one hundred right away," he laughed, but stopped as Enjolras made a strangled noise. "Enjolras? Hey, what’s going on?" He turned to get a better look at him.

"I... somethings wrong." Enjolras whispered, a note of fear in his voice.

Grantaire's chest turned icy. "I'm sorry if I-"

"No, I- my head..."

"How bad is it? Medical attention bad? Hospital bad? Fuck, I'll get someone to call an ambulance." He tried to move, but Enjolras grabbed him.

"No ambulance." He looked suddenly exhausted, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. "I need my phone."

"Enjolras-"

" _No ambulance_ ," he repeated.  

"Okay, let's just- Can you walk? I don't want to leave you alone here." Grantaire pushed himself to his feet, pulling Enjolras up after him. He stood unsteadly, breathing uneven, like it took an effort and he appeared to be in a large amount of physical pain. As such, Grantaire scooped him up and ran through the house, depositing Enjolras on the living room couch before running to Jehan's room, storming right in.

Jehan gave a shrill shout, jumping up from his bed. "R, what-?"

"Enjolras says he needs his phone. But I'm pretty sure he needs a doctor."

"What's happening?"

"Not sure. Something with his head, he’s been having headaches."

"Claquesous is a nurse, go grab him. I'll get his phone."

Grantaire ran down to Claquesous' room. "Hey, get up. We need your medical opinion on something." He barely waited for the other to stand before rushing back downstairs.

As soon as he entered the living room, Grantaire was reaching for Enjolras. "How you doing, E?" he asked as Claquesous pulled out a flashlight.

The blond only groaned in response, curled on his side, knees pressed to his chest.  

"Sit him up." Claquesous instructed, tilting Enjolras head once he was upright and shining a light in his eyes. After a few seemingly random tests, he sat back. "I can't see anything wrong with him, but that might not mean anything. How do you feel?"

"I need my phone,” Enjolras said through gritted teeth.

"And I need you to answer my question, dumbass."

"After I get my phone."

"E,” Grantaire said, “You can have your phone in a minute."

"I need it _now_."

"Here." Jehan entered the room, phone in hand.

"Jehan," Grantaire protested, though Enjolras was already unlocking his phone. It took him three attempts because his hands were shaking so badly.

He managed to call the desired number and lifted the phone to his ear as it rang, his head resting against Grantaire's shoulder. "Ferre," he said in the instant the line was answered, "Something's wrong. I don't know what's happening, I'm-" he choked himself off with a broken groan. "No, I haven't. It’s worse, I didn’t think it would… No! You can't. I just... I'll be fine. Just give me time. I can handle this. It doesn't look like anything's physically wrong…. I’ll be fine…. Yes," he gave a pathetic laugh, "Other than that I’m having a great time… Yeah, I'll be okay. Sorry, you'll know if I'm not…. Yeah, you too. Thanks just... For everything…. I know, but just in case… You too, bye."

"You're going to be fine," Grantaire assured him helplessly.

Enjolras made a pained sound bordering on a sob. From there the pain seemed to escalate. Ten agonizingly long minutes later he was doubled in pain, his sobbing broken only by strangled screams.

Grantaire felt like he was trapped in some sort of hellscape of a nightmare. Enjolras had his head in Grantaire's lap, the cold of his body seeping into Grantaire’s skin as the torture continued. Grantaire found himself incapable of understanding what was happening, not just from a medical perspective. Not a single person had rushed into the room to ask what was going on, why Enjolras was screaming and perhaps even more unbelievably, Claquesous had wandered out of the room at some point and had not returned.  

"Jehan, call an ambulance!" Grantaire shouted for what seemed the millionth time. Jehan had taken the phone from Enjolras as his call had ended and yet still refused to call 911.

Jehan appeared to be frozen, blinking at him in apparently shared confusion. He lifted the phone.

"No!" Enjolras snarled through another wave of pain.   

Jehan’s hand dropped.

"Don't listen to _him_! Are you insane?"

"I'm not calling an ambulance." Jehan said.

"Why the fuck not?!" Grantaire made to stand, but Enjolras grabbed him by the shirt, throwing all his weight against him.

"Shut up!" Enjolras sobbed into his shirt, and Grantaire bit the inside of his mouth so hard he tasted blood, finding he was otherwise frozen in terror as Enjolras screaming escalated, his back arched, his hands over his ears, body rigid and shaking with tension. Grantaire could feel the tears falling fast from his own eyes.

When the screaming stopped short, Grantaire's heart stopped with it.

There was a moment filled by only Enjolras’ heaving breaths. "It’s gone," he finally whispered, his voice horse, breathing coming in stuttered gasps. He removed his hands from his face.  

"What?" Grantaire asked shakily.

"The pain. It still hurts, but it's…. It’s okay."

"I still think you need to go to a hospital."

"I'm not going."

"What about the flight?" Jehan asked absurdly.

"I need to go home,” Enjolras said.

"To leave the show?"

"I'm not sure."

"What if your brain explodes or something on the flight?" worried Grantaire.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Try to get some sleep, Enj," Jehan said softly, "You too, R." And with that he left.

"Enjolras..." Grantaire choked out.

"Sorry," the blond mumbled. He tugged the artist down so that they were laying on the couch. Grantaire wrapped his arms around him. Neither slept through the remaining two hours before they had to leave for their flight. Enjolras clung to him like his time was running out and Grantaire clung back, worried that maybe it was.

"You're sure you want to fly?" Grantaire whispered to him as the team began to file into the kitchen to load up the cars.

"Yeah, I need to go home."

He looked shockingly frail and wavered as they stood. Grantaire hugged him. "I'm worried."

"I know,” Enjolras whispered into his shoulder, “I'm sorry."

"I was wondering where you guys were," Marius said as they entered the kitchen. “Enjolras, you look like death.”

"Didn't you hear all the screaming?" Grantaire asked.

"Who was screaming?"

"Grantaire, can you grab my stuff from my room?" Enjolras asked, slumping into a chair, head in his hands.

Grantaire squinted at him, but Enjolras gave him such a pleadingly tired look that he relented. "Fine." Grantaire kissed his forehead and left to retrieve the suitcases.

It was still black as night when they left, heavy clouds blotting out the sky.

At the airport, their group made it quickly through security. Grantaire had worried TSA might stop Enjolras given that he looked like he was about to keel over, leaning heavily on Grantaire to walk, but he passed unobstructed. Once they were through, Grantaire took Enjolras' hand and did not let go. The crew was still filming bits of their journey, but Grantaire had abandoned any semblance of barrier between them.

They saw Cosette briefly before boarding as she was on the same flight, sitting well away from the. Upon seeing Enjolras she tried to make her way over to them, but her handlers pushed her along.

The flight was nearly four hours long and mercilessly turbulent. Grantaire had never feared for his life while flying, but on this flight, \ there were multiple occasions where he was positive they were going to die. Throughout the flight, Enjolras stared catatonically out the window at the raging storm around them. Grantaire rambled at him nonsensically, not even sure of what he was saying and needing something to distract himself from everything that was going on around him.

Despite the terror of their flight, they made it to their final destination on time. Landing in early morning on a very dark and stormy day in Cleveland. At the terminal, the Bachelorette group waited for all their members to assemble before moving forward. As they waited for Cosette’s handlers to disembark, an emergency alert began flashing on the surrounding televisions.

"What's going on?" Enjolras asked, speaking up for the first time in hours.

“Probably a flash flood warning.” Grantaire said, but Enjolras began moving toward the nearest monitor. "You should sit,” Grantaire scolded, too exhausted to put any force behind it.

"I need to see."

Sighing, Grantaire took his arm and brought him closer to the TV, together they stopped to watch a frazzled looking reporter read her teleprompter.

"-Officials are warning to stay inside and avoid panic until the situation is assessed. Repeat, at approximately seven thirteen, eastern standard time, a yet unverified number of unidentified flying objects appeared within close proximity to Earth’s surface. These objects appear to be distributed all across the globe, with higher concentration over North America. We take you now to live footage from Spain." The imaged shifted to a wobbly view of the clear blue sky against a mountainous horizon. As the camera panned up, the image grew increasingly distorted, until the distortion was concentrated at the center of the picture. There was no sound, save for snapping static, which set Grantaire’s hair on end. And though the image in the sky was distorted, there was clearly something dark in color, large and shifting.

Grantaire jumped as someone down the hall screamed, his eyes moving away from the alarming image on the television. He turned to see a woman gaping in horror, pointing dumbly out the window. When Grantaire followed her hand he half expected to see some nebulous dark form descending down upon them, ready to consume them alive. Instead he saw a very low flying airplane barreling toward the building.

Moving as though underwater, Grantaire looked back toward Enjolras who was facing away from him, still staring at the tv. "Enj-" he started, tugging at Enjolras’ hand, which he was still holding, but his cry was cut short as the airplane made contact with the building, turning the world around them into a mess of rubble and darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you this was a weird story. Tried my best not to be too overt about things, but it was always coming to this: making out in the bathroom on the eve of a disaster. What is even happening? Ikd but I’d love to hear what you think :-)
> 
> While I was writing part of this story, the fire alarm when off in the airport and literally nobody reacted. Also, how sick can you look in an airport without being stopped? I had a panic attack across like the entirety of jfk and 99% of people did not bat an eyelash.
> 
> Thanks.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R agonizes

There was screaming.

Somewhere.

Somewhere seemingly very far away.

The world was dark. Grantaire had yet to open his eyes.

Everything hurt, especially breathing. His head pounded and there was a wetness against his cheek. The screaming faltered unnervingly with the breaking of the person’s voice before cutting out completely, more cries could be heard in its absence.

What had happened?

One moment he had been standing beside Enjolras and... _Enjolras_. Grantaire's eyes flew open and the world spun, his stomach giving a sickening lurch. He squeezed his eyes shut reflexively, took a deep breath and tried again, forcing his vision to focus. He could see a portion of the cloudy sky above him where the roof had caved in, an amount of building materials clung together above him, some hanging precariously. He tried to turn his head, but he was disoriented and his body ached in protest. He was looking out toward the wreckage of the crash. From what he could see, the airplane had smashed completely through the building, the wing tearing through close to where he had been standing. He could only assume that it had exploded upon impact because only a few yards away a fire blazed, the smell of jet fuel was choking. The smoke was suffocating.

The thought occurred to him that a lot of people must be dead. That he must be lucky to be alive at all. He was half buried in rubble; the majority having fallen onto his chest. It was hard to breathe, though as far as he could tell he hadn't been too badly crushed. He should probably get up. He clenched his hands into fists, his heart rate jumping when he did not feel Enjolras' hand in his. He turned toward the area where the blond should have been and saw only a pile of building materials.

A tornado siren had started sounding in the distance and someone else was screaming, Grantaire hardly noticed. His breath caught in a whine as he tried desperately to uncover himself, eyes locked on the wreckage beside him, where Enjolras had been. Where by all logic he _must_ be. Buried and... not dead. He couldn’t be _dead_.

As he pushed at the wreckage that had him pinned, he couldn’t find the strength to lift it. He tried again, black dots prickling at the edge of his vision, slowly overwhelming him. He felt his head hit the ground, but did not feel the pain as he blacked out.

When he woke next, someone was pulling him free of his trap. He wasn’t sure how long he had been out, though it couldn’t have been very long. His savior was saying something to him, but the blood was rushing in his head too loudly for him to hear. His chest was screaming in pain and he struggled to breathe. He was suddenly being hauled upright, away from the spot where he had fallen. Smoke was thick in the air around them and he choked, his eyes stung. He tried to tell whoever it was that they should leave him and help Enjolras, but he couldn't seem to catch his breath.

His rescuer, oblivious to his struggle, half dragged him away, despite Grantaire’s lack of assistance. After a few awkward steps they stumbled on the uneven ground. Grantaire looked down and saw they'd actually tripped over the fallen body of Claquesous, his eyes wide and sightless, gleaming in the not too distant firelight. Grantaire's head swam as he fought to stay conscious, worried he might be sick.

He managed a few more stumbling steps before the darkness overtook him yet again.

* * *

The third time Grantaire woke, he was not where he thought he would be. Part of him had been hoping this had all been a terrible dream and he would wake up at home or back in the Bachelor mansion, but instead he woke up still in the airport. Obviously, he had been moved as he was in an undamaged room. Turning his head to the right, he saw that he was laying on the floor beside a number of other people, some of them alone, some surrounded by small groups. The room was crowded, it seemed they were in the baggage claim area. He could hear the loud rumble of multilingual speech and varied cries of sorrow or pain.

"R!" Marius voice came from his left side as his face swam into view, red and blotchy. He looked as though someone had smeared the right side of his face against the sidewalk.

"What's happening?" Grantaire inhaled sharply, his ribs aching as he looked around. Half the crew was there, Feuilly had a camera trained on them, still apparently dedicated to doing his job. A number of people were missing from the group, panic gripped him. "Where's Enjolras?"

Marius grimaced. "They’re still pulling people out, we aren't allowed to leave this room. I don't know where Enjolras is, Bahorel didn't see him when he grabbed you."

"He was right with me, I was holding his hand," he said desperately, like Marius could do something about it.  

"I don't know what to tell you," Marius said, tears rolling down his face. Grantaire hadn’t noticed he was crying.

The artist released a shaky breath. "Sorry. It's not your fault. I'm just-"

"I know,” he said shakily, “They haven't brought Cosette in either."

Grantaire reached for his hand. "I'm sure they're both fine,” he said, though he didn’t really believe it.

Marius sniffled, tears pouring down his face. "Claquesous is dead. I saw them take the body away."

"I know, I saw him too."

"I thought you were dead."

Grantaire squeezed his hand lightly. "Marius, I'm fine."

"I know but..."

"But nothing. Is there any news on what’s actually happening out in the real world? Are we being invaded by aliens?"

"I have no idea. No one is telling us anything. They probably don't want to cause any more of a panic."

That was probably true. They lapsed into silence under the weight of the unknown. Despite his best efforts, Grantaire spent the next hour or so slipping in and out of consciousness. Awake, he watched more people being herded into the room, medical personnel scrambling to keep up with the numbers. The day had taken on a feverish tone.

"How's it going, R?" Bahorel asked some hours later. Last he'd been awake, Marius had said he was going to seek out food.

"Spectacular,” Grantaire said thickly, “I heard you pulled me out. Thank you. You're a regular superman. And my hero."

"I'm just glad you're okay."

Grantaire smiled weakly. "While you were pulling me out-"

"I didn't see him," Bahorel shook his head. "I was just focusing on getting you free and as soon as I was in here, they wouldn't let me go back."

The artist’s heart sank somehow further than its already low position in his chest. "Sorry, I just-"

"I'm sure he's fine. He was probably picked up by another search party.”

"Thanks," Grantaire said hopelessly before he yet again drifted off.

It was not long after that when Cosette was brought in.

"Marius!" Cosette's voice carried across the room to them. Grantaire had been instructing Marius on how to fold a paper boat. Marius at once scrambled to his feet, running full speed ahead and scooping her into his arms. He pulled back only to kiss her.

The first real kiss of the season, Grantaire noted distantly, or at least the first involving Cosette.

The two looked so happy in each other's arms it was painful to watch them. It was a familiar sight after hours of watching families reunited and while the relief he felt upon seeing Cosette was immense, he couldn't help the thread of bitterness that it wasn't Enjolras. The thought twisted venomously in his gut.

After their embrace ended, the two made their way to Grantaire and the rest of their group.

"Cosette, I am glad to see you're okay," he greeted her as she sat, Marius at her side.

"Grantaire, how are you holding up?" She took his hand and squeezed it lightly.

"Fine, but they haven't brought in Enjolras yet."

"That's what Marius said. I'm so sorry."

He shrugged, unsure of what else to do.

Knowing Cosette was okay made the time pass marginally less miserably. By then, fewer people were being brought, likely because the room was at capacity.

Grantaire was spending his time curled up on the floor, watching the door. Once a doctor passed through to tell him he was concussed and he had a few broken ribs, but that wasn’t anything he couldn’t have guessed.

Once the doctor moved on, Grantaire was approached by Bahorel, who was flanked by a camera wielding Feuilly.

"So, what’s going on, R?" Bahorel asked in his best host voice, taking a seat next to Grantaire.

"Are we really doing this?" Grantaire sat up, forcing a smile for the camera.

"Why not? The world may never see it."

"Fair enough. I've got three broken ribs. Aliens are apparently invading the earth and they haven't brought in Enjolras yet. I'm intensely concerned."

"And why's that?"

Grantaire laughed, which quickly turned into a groan. "Well, I don’t want to die and I like Enjolras very much."

"I thought you were here for Cosette.” Bahorel raised an eyebrow.

Cosette patted his arm reassuringly and he startled slightly. She and Marius had been lost to each other, quietly talking since she had been brought in.

"I adore Cosette.” He smiled at her before turning back to the camera. “But I don't think we would work as a couple. And I... Well, I really like Enjolras."

“What do you like about him?”

Grantaire gave a pathetic chuckle, “He’s a fucking weirdo and an idealistic idiot, but he makes me wish the world were a better place. And just… I don’t know. I think he’s a very very special person.”

"Do you think he likes you too?"

Grantaire's breath faltered. It certainly _seemed_ like Enjolras liked him, but it also seemed that he'd never had a single romantic thought before this experience. And what would that come to once he was back to work? Would he have time for something like this? "I think so. Maybe. I don't know," his breath caught, "It doesn't matter, I just want him to be okay."

"What was your ideal outcome for this experience? Specific to Enjolras. Before we ended up here."

"Whatever is the opposite of this," he scoffed, "But if you want the embarrassing truth... In a perfect world, I would be the third to last one eliminated; Marius and Enjolras would be the final two. Marius would be proposed to and then you would cut to Enjolras standing there, waiting for his rejection when I appear and he's ‘like what the fuck?’ And I then propose to him and get rejected because he's very super serious and it would be insane for him to say yes."

"...You get rejected in your own fantasy?"

"Okay! Fine! In my deepest darkest fantasy, he says yes and we get married and adopt three kids and he runs for office and makes the world a better place. And that means I get to live out my days as a senator's husband. Ugh, he makes me want to be a senator's husband. What has this world come to? Are you happy now? You have seen the depths of my depravity."

"I don't know why you're so adamant that he'd say no. He obviously likes you," Cosette frowned. "That note he gave me on the two on one asked me not to eliminate the two of you because he wanted more time with you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He didn't tell you?"

"No, he was all sneaky about it. That doesn’t mean he’ll still want me hanging around when he’s out living his life as usual. If there is a usual to go back to after this. If he’s even still alive."

"I'm sure he'll be okay, R," Cosette said, kissing his forehead.

“Well, if you jump cut to a memorial for his death, I am going to lose my mind… It’ll be great television.”

* * *

The days passed excruciatingly slowly. The military personnel stood at the doors to prevent people leaving. Notes were being passed between the multiple groups collected in the airport in order to locate people. Sometimes the guards would connect families back together, usually when there were children involved, but for the most part everyone was kept inside.

Word from the outside was that the objects in the sky were hovering in place, unmoving. No one knew yet what they were or what they wanted. Phone lines were down, so they only knew what the military personnel knew. Grantaire had gathered that weather patterns across the globe were out of whack. In Cleveland it was snowing, which was rather strange given that it was June, the airport was very cold as a consequence. There was also a good deal of strange animal behavior reported. But the main issue was the hysteria among the people. A number of people seemed to take the invasion as a sign of the end times, there was even a pastor in their group directing small sermons to that end. But whatever the ufos were, be they alien entities, ships, portals, or something else entirely, they didn’t appear to be _doing_ anything. Maybe that was on purpose, maybe they were weakening humanity before they invaded.

“What are you going to do when our alien overlords come for us, Cosette?” Grantaire asked. Cosette was sitting back against the wall beside him, petting Marius’ hair as he was asleep with his head in her lap.

“Well, first I want to know what they want. Hopefully, they just want to get to know us.”

“And if they want to invade?”

“Then I’ll have to go off to battle them, I have to keep Marius safe after all,” she smiled, leaning down to kiss Marius’ cheek.

“If you went off to war, I don’t think he would rest until you returned.”

“Probably not, but I couldn’t just do nothing.”

“Then he would fight beside you.”

“We could be a warrior couple.” She smiled. “What would you do in the wake of an invasion?”

“Well, as a coward, I would surrender myself to their control and hope they didn’t kill me too painfully.”

The Bachelorette scowled at him. “I don’t like your answer.”

“I dunno, I just don’t feel like the earth is worth saving.”

“Enjolras would bite your head off if he heard you say that.”

“I know, but he’s not here.” Saying so touched something painful in his chest. “Did you know he has a contingency plan to deal specifically with alien invasions?”

“Um, no. I can’t say that I did.”

“He promised that in the event of an invasion he would keep everyone safe. Such a fucking…” He brought his knees to his chest and hid his face. “He’s so goddam perfect. I love him so much.”

Cosette rubbed his shoulder. “He’ll be okay.”

“How do you know?”

“I just have a feeling.”

* * *

After four days with no sign of Enjolras, Grantaire felt wretched. All he wanted to do was sleep and get drunk, but his mind was racing and they weren't allowed alcohol. When he was not worrying about Enjolras, Grantaire worried about Eponine, or Bossuet, or the hundreds of nameless people he’d met in his short time on earth. What were they going through? Where they safe? Alone? Afraid? Grantaire was very afraid.

Most of his time was spent laying, unmoving on the floor. When he managed to pick himself up, Grantaire spent time doing caricatures of people to keep his mind occupied. It kept spirits up, the kids especially enjoyed it. He now had a troupe of them following him about. For them he tried to stay smiling.

He was in the adjacent room, drawing one of the kids with her parents when Marius sprinted in, shouting his name.

"What?!" Grantaire sat bolt upright.

"Enjolras!" Marius continued to speak but Grantaire heard no more. The world seemed to have shifted. Before he knew it, he had thrown his pencil and paper aside and was sprinting into the main room where Enjolras stood hugging Cosette. He looked up as Grantaire appeared, pale with dried blood running down his forehead and his clothes drenched with blood. He released Cosette and stepped toward the artist. Grantaire gave a choked sob and all but threw himself forward, face pressed into Enjolras' blood-soaked sweatshirt. He ignored the screeching pain in his chest. Enjolras was alive and he smelled nauseatingly like death, blood, and jet fuel.

Grantaire tried to speak but could not find the words.

Enjolras pressed his face to his hair, murmuring half heard apologies.

"I thought you were dead," Grantaire said when he could manage. "What happened? I woke up beside a heap of rubble. I thought you were crushed to death."

A kiss was pressed to his temple, the words whispered against his skin. "I was buried when the plane crashed. It took a while for the rescue team to pull me free."

"It took them _four days_?"

He shook his head. "I would have gone to you if I could.”

“What was stopping you?”

Enjolras hesitated. “I… I’ll explain in a moment.”

Grantaire leaned back to look at him, hands moving to cup Enjolras’ face, brushing his thumbs over his cheeks, blood making his fingers slide as he tried to memorize every inch of him. His skin was deathly pale, made to look shocking against all the red, but Enjolras’ eyes stared back at him, clear and earnest. "You'll be the death of me, Apollo,” Grantaire swore.

Enjolras frowned. "I sincerely hope not."

Grantaire kissed him hard. He was frantic. Trying to make him understand how terrible the last few days had been. Enjolras matched him beat for beat and when they parted, the blond pulled him close again, cheek pressed to his hair. Brushing a hand over his back as the rest of the group spoke with him. Grantaire listened, not hearing half of what was said. He was focused on the beating of Enjolras’ heart and trying to understand why something still felt off.

"What's going on?" Grantaire asked softly after a few minutes.

"What do you mean?" Enjolras asked, the group having left them alone.

"Why am I the only one asking what happened?" Everyone else was asking if he was okay, avoiding the question of his story. "Something's not right..."

"In a moment." Enjolras said softly, "I need a doctor." As he spoke, he leaned more weight onto Grantaire, shifting where he stood, a shudder wracked his body. Grantaire pulled back to see Enjolras holding his side. Grantaire shoved his shirt out of the way to see the bloody mess below.

"Hey, we need a doctor over here!" he shouted, adrenaline giving a sickening spike. One of the doctors came running, guiding them to a quiet area before beginning the process of addressing the injury.

There was a terrifyingly deep tear in Enjolras side. The wound stretched from his right rib to his hip, curving up and ending at his waste. Oddly enough, it looked half healed, as if an months old wound had only just torn open.  

Grantaire took his hand as he was stitched back together. “Enjolras, what’s going on?”

“In a moment.”

Grantaire clutched his hand tighter as the doctor worked. When the job was done, she wordlessly moved off, making the hair on Grantaire’s neck stand on end. Something was very very not right. “What the fuck is happening. I don’t understand how you look like you just now stumbled out of the crash. Where have you been?"

"Cosette said you weren't sure how I felt about you."

“For fuck sake! You just completely avoided the question."

Enjolras tugged at his hand. "This is important."

"Fucking fuck…” Grantaire made a frustrated sound, “If you must know, I'm not sure exactly _what_ to think. I sort of got the idea that you'd never considered anything like this before."

"I hadn't, but you should know that I really enjoy your presence and wish to spend more time with you in the future." The response sounded oddly coached, though who would have coached him was unknown.

"In what, uh, capacity?" Grantaire asked, daring to let himself hope through all of his confusion.  

"A romantic one."

" _Really_?"

"Yes."

"Not joking?"

"Why would I joke about this?"

"I just- I think I've been in love with you since day one, so I don't know what to do with myself."

"Oh," Enjolras smiled. “I cannot promise that I would be an easy romantic partner, but as I said I like you very much and am more than willing to try.”

Grantaire laughed, “So, is that what we are now? Enjolras and Grantaire: romantic partners?"

Enjolras smile stretched wider. "If you are amenable to the idea, although two considerations remain. One is your approval by Courfeyrac and Combeferre. But that shouldn't be much trouble, Courfeyrac is dying to meet you."

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

"That brings us to the other matter." His smile faltered. “Which is perhaps the larger issue.”

Grantaire felt a prickle of apprehension. "Okay?"

"So, my headaches..."

"You're not going to tell me you're dying, are you? Because I don’t know if I can hear that right now."

"No. I- at the time I was worried that I might be. Or rather, I was worried that this body might be rejecting me."

Grantaire blinked. "What _the fuck_ does that mean?"

"It was my fault they came."

Grantaire’s mind took a good long while to process this statement. "The... aliens?"

"Yes."

Grantaire paused. "Okay, I feel at this point I should say that I'll still love you if you're crazy. I will drive you to therapy and pick up your medication if the world isn't destroyed in the near future."

"I'm not crazy. They were tracking me, that's why I was getting headaches."

" _Why_ would aliens be tracking you?"

"My.... Parents were specifically seeking me out. I ran from the collective."

"You're saying that you're also... an alien?"

Enjolras nodded looking all too serious. "Yes."

"Okay... Prove it."

Enjolras grimaced. "Last night... Or no... how long have I been gone?"

"Four days."

" _Four days_?" He looked stricken. "I didn't realize it was that long."

“Yeah, it was pretty horrible.”

“I’m so sorry. I wish I could have gotten here sooner. I just- I should probably explain first,” he fumbled for the correct words, “My species has the ability to exert control over a number of other beings. I can't stand it, that's why I left. That's also why no one called an ambulance for me and it's why no one is demanding to know where I've been and it's why no one is approaching us now. This is only loose control, suggestion. I hate doing it, but I don’t have much of a choice right now. I'm sorry if it's been surreal, I haven't been influencing you beyond keeping you from tackling Jehan for my phone. I just... I wanted to explain to you."

His words were impossible, but they made a degree of sense. "I'm not saying I believe you, but why tell me?"

"I wanted to give you the choice to continue seeing me, knowing me as I am. If you find it upsetting, I can erase your memory but as I said, I like you and I didn't want there to be secrets between us.”

"Prove you're telling the truth...” He thought for a demonstrative action. “Make me slap myself."

Enjolras grimaced again and without any action by himself, Grantaire softly touched a hand to his cheek. Knowing that he hadn't moved on his own brought a thrill of panic. Enjolras shuddered.

“Do it again,” Grantaire said in awe. His other hand touched his other cheek. “Holy shit.”

"It makes my skin crawl." Enjolras released the control and the artist’s hands fell to his lap.

Grantaire gaped at him. "So, you're like actually an alien then, how the fuck does that work? Does that mean you aren't really Enjolras? Is your entire existence a fabrication?"

"I still am Enjolras... sort of. I wanted to exist as a limited life form to prove that 'lesser' beings are capable of change on their own, outside of complete control. My species uses limited life forms for production and labor, eliminating all their problems by taking complete control over their minds. The justification is that they're savages."

"Wait, so you are legitimately trying to change the world? There's no way that's going to happen."

"I picked a lawyer so that I could get into politics and once in higher power, instate a contingency plan. That way the at least one country would be ready for invasion. I knew coming here would bring everyone else, but I didn't think It would be so soon."

"What do you mean you picked a lawyer?"

"In order to take a human form, I had to enter the body of a dying human. I assumed control when his consciousness left him, I hold Enjolras memories and his personality still has some sway over my actions but... he is gone."

"So, then Enjolras was..."

"A quiet young man who wanted to do good, but who's time was cut tragically short."

"...and when you said you weren't ready to die?"

"He wasn't," Enjolras looked away. "My takeover was unpleasant. I want to think he understood but... I can't say for sure that he did."

"Then who are you? Separate from Enjolras."

"I'm a genderless, nameless, transdimentional alien who wants his people to realize that what they do is fucked up."

"Nameless?"

"Our species is semi-telepathic within close proximity to each other. We can essentially identify each other by feel, no need for spoken language. As a name, Enjolras suits me fine. It was really strange being here Because it was the first time since arriving that I was really isolated from Courfeyrac and Combeferre. I couldn't sleep without them. Being physically close to you helped."

"They're aliens too?"

"Yes. Courfeyrac chose an investigative journalist and Combeferre chose a doctor. We all wanted a different perspective."

"And you said genderless and he in the same sentence."

He shrugged, "I've taken a male form and again I think it suits me fine. Maybe. I hadn't really thought about it before."

"And what you’re telling me is that you've been an alien entity nesting inside a corpse this entire time?"

He made a face. "It sounds really sinister when you say it like that."

"You have to admit it's a little sinister, whatever your intentions. And that also means that on the eve of an invasion, this alien entity." He poked Enjolras chest. "Was spending his time making out with me in a bathroom in the Bachelor mansion? Which also means that I made out with an undead corpse."

"In my defense, I didn't know there was an impending invasion and I was worried my body might tear to pieces. I was trying to make the most of the time I had left."

"Is that what would have literally happened?"

"I'm not sure. One of my parents was... Basically pulling at my consciousness through a familial thread. I was unconsciously trying to block it. I think those two things together were causing all the strangeness around the house, but my body was slowly shutting down as an effect. I didn’t realize at first that something as wrong. I was sort of having this problem before. The reason Courfeyrac sent me away in the first place is that I was working so hard, my body was starting to shut down. I’ve always been terrible at controlling my human form.”

“And his solution was to send you onto the Bachelorette to force you to relax?”

“It was half that and half because he didn’t think I was really living. Or rather that I was living but not experiencing, and there he was right. I underestimated the benefits of taking a human form.” He smiled up at Grantaire, making the human feel slightly dizzy. Or perhaps that was the weight of all this absurd information.

“Is that what you’ve been writing in that little notebook? What it’s like to live as a petty human?”

“I suppose. Mostly I just write my thoughts, and that is a major theme of my thoughts.”

“And I assume the coded writing is to ensure no one thinks you’re insane.”

“Correct.”

Grantaire huffed, overwhelmed. "That's… I don't even know what that is."

"How, uh, do you feel about my romantic potential now?

"Well, you're not going to, like, fill me with eggs or something, are you?" Grantaire asked.

"No.” Enjolras thought a moment. “Although I suppose reproduction may be theoretically possible. The offspring might be slightly monstrous and the logistics of who could successfully carry them would take some advanced mental math, but theoretically possible."

"How dare you insult our horrifying monster babies,” Grantaire laughed with an edge of hysteria.

"Then this is okay?"

"For you, Apollo, I'd be willing to deal with literally anything. Also, not about to pass up the opportunity to fuck an alien, if that's where this is headed."

Enjolras gave a startled laugh. "Perhaps. I suppose all that's left now is to meet Courf and Ferre. I'd say we could go now, but I can't really move."

"You're an all-powerful transdimentional alien who is inhibited by a tiny flesh wound?"

"Not all powerful. It's difficult to retain a human form. I have to keep it alive all on my own. You have no idea how hard it is to digest food."

"Well, you picked a very pretty body." He ran a finger down the bridge of Enjolras' nose. "What do you look like naturally? All the news feeds are distorted."

"I don't know how to explain it to you. We don’t see in the same way that you see me now and if you were to look at me as a non-human it would drive you to insanity."

"Yikes. What about a concept of size, the objects in the sky are huge."

"Ah, those are... Openings I suppose you could say. They let us observed the world from above, from whatever plane we temporarily exist in. I would say that in my original form I am perhaps skyscraper sized."

"That's... How old are you?"

"I'm not exactly sure. Because we move in and out of dimensions, we don't have a measure for time. By parents still consider me a child but I'm old enough to be living under my own command. I would say the age I present here is a good approximation of my actual age."

"Can you… go back to what you were before?"

"I'm not sure that I can without killing this body. I'm the only thing keeping it together. I had to basically shut it down while I reached out to my parents.”

“Were you buried under the rubble all that time?”

“No. My body was crushed on impact, but because _I_ was there, I kept it living, nearly shut down and was eventually uncovered and tossed into a pile of dead bodies. When I was done talking things through, I had to repair what I could and get back here. Apparently, I was a bit sloppy in my haste to return to you.” He looked down toward his side.

Grantaire’s stomach had twisted. “Then, if you were a human, you would have died?”

“Yes.”

Grantaire leaned forward to rest his head on Enjolras shoulder. “Thank god you’re an alien.” He could feel his hands shaking and clenched them into fists and Enjolras pulled him down to lay beside him. “What happened with your parents?”

“Everyone should be headed off soon, if they aren't already. They think I'm being absurd, but they agreed to give me maybe thirty years before they come back to enslave humanity,” Enjolras said bitterly.

"You saved the earth?"

"I also put it in peril."

"Well, you’ve put us all into your hands. You better do something drastic. I don't want to be enslaved."

"I intend to, I don't want you to be enslaved either."

"I think you'll have to use a bit of mind control."

Enjolras sighed. "Perhaps. Will you be with me? Keep me grounded. Make sure I don't go mad with power."

"Well, if you do, I don't think I would very well stand in your way, but I'll hang around for as long as you can stand me."

"Don't say it like that."

"Why not?"

"Because it makes me sad." Enjolras leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Don’t think of yourself as a nescience. If I didn’t want you beside me, I would not have torn myself open to return. I should hope that speaks to my seriousness.”

Grantaire kissed him deeply, pulling back only to breathe and then not retreating far. "You said your species is semi telepathic. So, do your parents know you've been fooling around with a pathetic little human?"

"It’s more a transfer of mood, unless specific ideas need to me made. I conveniently blocked out that particular topic. I think it would have put you and the rest of humanity in danger."

"You’re such a rebel," Grantaire teased, pulling at a blood-soaked curl. "So, just for my sake, you are okay, right? You'll recover?"

"Yes. Are _you_ okay? I know this is… a lot.”

"Well, I'm either fantastic or I've gone completely insane, probably at the sight of your mangled corpse and now I've constructed an elaborate fantasy to escape this harsh reality."

Enjolras pulled him forward and kissed him again. "I promise this is happening."

"That's exactly what a fantasy version of you would want me to think."

" _R._ "

"Fine. Once everything settles down and you are in zero threat of bleeding out, then I will be fine. Delusional or not,” he sighed, suddenly exhausted.

Enjolras gazed at him sleepily, intertwining their fingers. They spent the next few hours quietly existing together, Enjolras whispering about the secrets of the universe as overhead the extraterrestrial invasion retreated.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we can all agree that r is 100% a monster fucker
> 
> Not sure how I feel about this chapter, it’s a lot of talky talk and I fear it doesn't quite live up to the horror in lovecraftian horror. Needs more cosmic dread :-(
> 
> And I dont think I agree with what e is doing. I mean, I sort of do bc people should have free will but at the same time some people are evil and the world would be better off without them and he has the ability to make them stop. But he's more focused on the big picture (a bit of godly arrogance). For the greater good and all that. I dont know. It's a weird moral question. What do you think?
> 
> Also, one person guessed that e was actually dead all along chapters ago and my reaction was like no but then I thought about it and like yeah kinda so kudos to being psydo correct haha. Also, kudos to the other people who guessed perhaps semi jokingly that e was an alien after the last chapter :-)
> 
> Let me know if I forgot to explain anything, it’s hard to keep it all straight.
> 
> One more chapter to go.
> 
> Thanks.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jojo+R forever ;-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you from the bottom of my heart to shitpostingfromthebarricade for beta-ing this chapter, you have no idea how much it helped (Go read their fics cough cough) ;-)
> 
> Also as I post this, the new season of the Bachelor starts tonight (if you want to cave to the pull of a horrible trashy show)

The first sign that things were getting back to the way they were meant to be was the ringing of the first cell phone. Or rather, the ringing of many cell phones at once as whatever force was interfering with phone reception vanished.

“Should I take that to mean they’re gone?” Grantaire turned to Enjolras, whose head rested in his lap. It had been only a few hours since he had outed himself as an extraterrestrial.

“They are gone,” Enjolras confirmed. “For now.”

“Okay, you didn’t have to be so dramatic about it.”

“I wasn’t being dramatic, just realistic.”

“Sure you weren’t, I could hear it in the totally not dramatic way your voice dipped,” he teased, his eyes scanning the buzzing crowd around them. “Oh, look Jehan approaches.”

“Phone?” Jehan said, handing Grantaire his phone.

“Thank you!” Grantaire kissed the screen of his precious mobile device. “Is this the end of the show then?”

“We have to have a call with our boss,” Jehan said, handing Enjolras his phone. “But the team _here_ thinks you should all call home to check on friends and family.”

“Bless each and every one of you,” Grantaire said, already rushing to call Eponine. The phone rang a few moments before she answered.

“R?”

Grantaire felt an overwhelming surge of relief at the sound of her voice. “You have no idea how good it is to hear from you. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, the last few days have been chaos, but they were at least exciting. Where are you? I thought your plane was supposed to be coming in before everything went to shit.”

“Yeah, literally about two minutes before everything went to shit. I’m still stuck in the airport. Not sure what we’re doing yet with filming.”

“Ugh, it’s been awful not having you here to complain at. I have been suffering, R. I hope it’s been worth it.”

Grantaire looked down at Enjolras who was talking on the phone, presumably to one or both of his friends. “More than worth it.”

“Hang on, I know that tone. Have you _actually_ fallen for someone on that trashy show?”

“Maybe.”

“Tell me everything,” she demanded.

“Later, pretty sure I’m not allowed to talk about it yet.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “Let me know when you get things figured out, my phone is literally on its last breath.”

“Will do. Hopefully I’ll see you soon. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

With one final goodbye he hung up. He leaned back and waited for Enjolras to finish his phone call before poking him in the cheek. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hm?”

“Could I maybe have your number?”

“Oh, right,” Enjolras said, handing over his phone.

“Sweet,” Grantaire looked down at the device, which was open to the home screen. “Uh, what the fuck is your background?”

“I don’t know, Courfeyrac likes to guess my passwords and change it. At this point I just accept what he gives me.”

“I need to meet Courfeyrac.” The image was a vintage drawing of a frog in a red uniform standing on two legs, holding a sword aloft and directing an army of other bipedal frogs.

“Be careful what you wish for.”

* * *

Sometime later Bahorel approached their comfortable bubble. “Hey, guys. You two up for a team meeting?”

“Always,” Grantaire told him.

Bahorel waved over the rest of the team as Enjolras attempted to stand.

“Should you really be getting up?” Grantaire asked, taking his arm.

“I’m fine, I’ve healed enough that I won’t rip open.”

“That’s very comforting,” he grumbled. “Up we go.” He hoisted the alien upright and allowed himself to act as a crutch. “So, what’s the deal?” He turned to the gathered crew, noticing Feuilly was watching through his camera.

“Well,” Bahorel sighed, “We’ve just gotten off the phone with the big bad boss man, and it’s been decided the filming schedule will be changed. There doesn’t seem to be much point in continuing the usual formula now.” He nodded to the two couples before him: Cosette and Marius stood close enough that they were nearly touching, and Grantaire was literally supporting Enjolras.

“What, we aren’t going to continue filming after humanity as we know it was nearly obliterated?” Grantaire scoffed.

“It’s more that two sets of our contestants have paired up and the other one died.”

“It doesn’t really feel right to go on and just forget Claquesous died,” Cosette grimaced. “I’m not going to have to tell the family, am I? I mean- I would, I’m sort of the reason he’s here- He was here,” she corrected, “and maybe they should hear it from me, but I’m not exactly sure how best to go about-” she rambled, running a nervous hand through her hair.

“No, _we’ll_ talk to the family and see how they want to deal with this,” Bahorel assured.

“And as far as things go for you four,” Jehan said, “the plan is that once they let us out of here, we are going to film the reunions with your friends in Cleveland-“

“I don’t want my reunion filmed,” Enjolras interjected. “Once we get out, I just want to go home.”

“I agree,” Grantaire sighed. “I just want to make sure everyone’s okay. We can do a set-up thing later, but right now I just want confirmation things are fine.”

“Okay.” Jehan nodded. “What if we stage your reunion but have your friends’ real first impressions of each other?”

“No cameras when my friends meet him,” Enjolras protested.

“ _Okay_ , then what if we release you two for a day to meet up with your loved ones, then we bring you back to do a long interview about everything that’s happened here? Then you can say goodbye to Cosette and Marius before we leave.”

“That works for me,” Grantaire said as Enjolras nodded his agreement.

“Great. Then you two,” he turned to Cosette and Marius, “We’ll take you straight to meet Cosette’s dad because, as I understand it, Marius is homeless and has no friends?”

“Correct.” Marius ducked his head.

“I’m your friend, Marius,” Grantaire consoled.

“Thanks, R.”

Cosette smiled, kissing Marius on the cheek. “Don’t worry, you can move in with me. I’ll give you a home.”

“Is that a proposal?” Grantaire teased.

“Oh, have I not proposed yet?” Cosette asked with a cheeky grin.

“You have not,” Grantaire informed her, “Are you proposing now?”

“I might be…” She looked to Marius, “What do you think, Marius, will you marry me?”

“Will I _what!?_ ” Marius blinked in shock, the tone of his incredulity drawing the attention of others in the room.

“Marry me?” Cosette repeated. “Should I get down on one knee? The floor is kind of dirty but-“ She was cut off as Marius hugged her.

“Do you mean it?” His voice had climbed an octave.

“Of course, I do!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you dope,” Cosette laughed. “So, will you?”

“I- Yes!”

Cosette pulled him forward into a long kiss as onlookers cheered. Grantaire gave an obnoxious wolf whistle.

“Another successful season,” Bahorel said when they parted, “if slightly unconventional.”

“It will certainly be something special,” Cosette said with a huff, resting her head on the shoulder of her stunned fiancé.

“Marius,” Grantaire addressed the poor shell-shocked teacher. “I don’t know why you look so surprised, we have literally been telling you since the start that this would be how it ended… I mean obviously we didn’t predict the whole almost alien invasion but… you know.”

Marius gave him a very strange look, which was echoed by the rest of the team. “Didn’t predict the _what_?”

“The… aliens?”

“Are you suggesting that asteroid was some sort of ploy to weaken humanity for invasion?” Jehan asked.

“ _Asteroid?_ What the fuck are you talking about?” Grantaire felt as though he’d entered some strange dream, everyone was staring at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Their memories have been replaced,” Enjolras said quietly. “Damn, that’s going to make a second invasion a lot easier.”

“No capitalizing on the extraterrestrial fear,” Grantaire said absently. “What about the video evidence then? What did you guys see on the news before all this happened?” he asked those who had not reacted to his or Enjolras’ words.

“An asteroid hurtling toward Earth? It skimmed the atmosphere,” Marius said. “Don’t you remember?”

“Must have hit my head harder than I thought,” he said, deeply unsettled. He was now the only human who remembered what happened, that was… That was _something_ … Unnerving to say the least.

* * *

Not long after cell phone reception was restored, people started to be released from the airport. The process was very slow, and it was a full day before security reached their group as each person was individually sorted through to find their identity and destination.  Those on connecting flights were required to stay. Those whose destination was Cleveland, or were planning to disembark were released, and the Bachelorette team was lucky enough that they had their luggage waiting for them nearby. The runways were cleared and those planes which were not damaged by the explosion on the left wing of the airport began making their runs, taking people to specific destinations.

Grantaire’s release was easy enough, and after finding his name and destination a TSA agent stamped his hand and sent him on his way. He had already called Eponine to pick him up.

Enjolras was still waiting for his stamp. “Go,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Grantaire asked reluctantly. “What if-“

“Grantaire.” Enjolras silenced him, leaning down to kiss his mouth. “I am a vastly powerful alien entity, I’ll be fine. Text me when you make it home, and we’ll make plans to meet up again later.”

“Fine, I _suppose_ you have a point,” he confessed. “But I’ll miss you, and I’ll worry anyway.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “ _Don’t_ worry, and I’ll miss you too. Now go.”

Grantaire kissed him one last time before turning to leave, dragging his luggage after him. He didn’t look back, feeling out of touch with the rules of his universe, worrying that perhaps if he turned he would find that Enjolras had disappeared.

When Eponine pulled in to pick him up, he dragged her out of the car and hugged her so tightly she wheezed as his ribs screamed in protest. “R! You’re going to squeeze me to death!”

“I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Of course, I’m okay, I’m more likely to survive an apocalypse than you are.”

“I missed you!”

“Was it that horrible? You stayed on so long,” she said, shoving him aside and stepping back into the car.

“It was great, then it was horrible, then it was fantastic.”

“I want all the details.”

“You’re literally not going to believe me.”

“Sure.” She rolled her eyes.

“I am so serious it’s not even funny.”

He told her the whole truth that night, but as she understood the events that transpired in the airport, he had been startled by Enjolras’ near death and nothing more. It was enough to make him feel more than a little crazy, but at least Enjolras was responding to his texts, so he was apparently still in existence. They made plans for Grantaire to meet Enjolras’s friends the next day before the artist ended up passed out on Eponine’s couch.

Grantaire made pancakes in the morning for Eponine before heading out to Enjolras’ apartment building. It felt so strange to just _go_ places on his own; no camera crew following and watching his every move.

When his journey ended, he was very happy to see the blond standing in front of his building looking a good deal better than he had the day before.

They embraced, and Enjolras brought him into the building intending to perform a proper introduction. However, when they stood in front of the apartment, the door flew open and Grantaire was grabbed before Enjolras could respond. The door was locked once Grantaire was inside, Enjolras pounding on the door in protest. "Courfeyrac!"

"So," the one Grantaire assumed was Courfeyrac said, holding Grantaire by the front of his shirt and brandishing a kitchen whisk. He was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses and a suit like he was some kind of federal agent. "You think you can date our darling Jojo? Who _the fuck_ do you think you are?"

"Jojo?" Grantaire managed with a strangled laugh.

"Combeferre! Let me in!" Enjolras insisted.

"No can do, Enj!" Courfeyrac shouted back.

"Courf." Combeferre appeared at Courfeyrac’s side

"Shush, Ferre, this is important."

"This may be an inappropriate time,” Grantaire said, “but I was told you have pictures of Enjolras’s original fashion choices. And I would chop off at least two fingers to see them."

"We can embarrass Enj later,” Courfeyrac said, eyes narrowed. “I repeat, what are your intentions toward our sweet innocent E?"

"Um, I like him very much?"

"Why? Explain yourself."

Grantaire gave a shit eating grin. “Okay, I think Enjolras is fucking fantastic.”

“You mock me, Sir.”

“I do not! He’s absurd and possibly a little insane, but my statement stands: Enjolras is fucking fantastic, and I love him very much. I could listen to him talk about tax reform until I starved to death and not resent a second of it… assuming I could argue with him. And I would like nothing more than the complete achievement of all of his hopes and dreams. It would make the universe a better place. And he has a beautiful smile. It’s a wonder that birds don’t fly into buildings while distracted by his terrifying aura. Shall I go on to describe in detail the depths of my affection? Or do you have a specific facet I should focus on?”

Courfeyrac made a face. "Ugh, gross, you pass.” He released Grantaire’s shirt, throwing his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Have your wicked way with him. Expect it to be really awkward, he's terrible at new situations and emotions and interpersonal relationships."

"He holds his own,” Grantaire snorted.

Courfeyrac gasped. "Wh- He didn't say anything about-!" He rushed forward and flung open the apartment door. "E! You naughty boy, what have you been _doing_ with this human?"

Enjolras stormed past him, grabbed a pillow and smacked Courfeyrac over the head with it. "None of your business!"

"Ferre! Help!"

"Enjolras." Combeferre placed a hand on his shoulder.

Enjolras stopped, looking as though he would very much like to continue as Courfeyrac cowered behind Combeferre.

"Um, do I pass?" Grantaire asked, getting the impression he was missing some level of the interaction. Possibly the semi-telepathic level.

"You passed,” Courfeyrac said, “but let it be known the ice you walk is thin as fucking paper. I am a transdimensional alien, and if you break his heart, I will devour your soul."

"What he means to say is that it is very nice to meet you, Grantaire. Hopefully, we haven't frightened you off."

"I have a high tolerance for strangeness, it seems." Grantaire grinned.

"Shit! I kind of forgot you actually know!” Courfeyrac cheered in a complete one-eighty, “Ooo this is going to be so fun, let's be best friends."

"Only if you show me the pictures."

Courfeyrac grinned and pulled up a folder on his phone labeled “Jojo’s no-no’s” which appeared to be a collection of terrible pictures of Enjolras. Left to his own devices, it seemed Enjolras liked to wear a lot of red in random patterns and clashing colors. Most of the clothes were draping, and a number of outfits involved strange glasses and/or goggles. In the majority of the images, he looked like a weird spindly old lady, leaving Grantaire breathless with delight.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asked Enjolras through hiccups of laughter.

The blond gave a proud tilt of his chin. “I don’t see anything wrong with my fashion choices,” he said primly.

“You’re a renegade,” Grantaire cheered. “The feeble laws of fashion cannot hold you down. If only we all had such blatant disregard for societal pressures.”  

“In another time he would be considered a visionary,” Combeferre said. His tone was kind but his sincerity was questionable.

“Don’t encourage him!” Courfeyrac moaned. “These outfits make me want to spoon my eyeballs out. So long as we are friends, I will choose your outfits,” he jabbed a finger at Enjolras.

Enjolras crossed his arms. “I disagree with your decisions on principle, but for the sake of our friendship, I will defer to your judgment.”

“And you.” Courfeyrac pointed to Grantaire.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. I better get some appreciation for making your boyfriend look presentable.”

Grantaire’s heart fluttered at the word ‘boyfriend’ but he played it cool. “Courfeyrac, I have only known you for ten minutes but I already appreciate you to the depths of my soul.”

“Good,” Courfeyrac said, placing his hands on his hips, “then I think this all going to work out.”

* * *

After hours of bonding with Courfeyrac and Combeferre, Grantaire texted Jehan that he and Enjolras were ready for their final meet up with the crew. In the subsequent reply, he was instructed to drive to a Holiday Inn where they were huddled into an empty conference room.

“Jehan, why does this room look like it’s set up for a child’s birthday party?” Grantaire asked, indicating the balloons, streamers, and ‘Happy Birthday!’ banner.

“It’s all we could get on short notice,” Jehan said. “The party is tonight, and the mom was insistent that we not touch the decorations, so we’ve embraced it and bought a cake.” He pointed to a lonely-looking carrot cake. “Sorry, Enj, we didn’t have time to hunt down something vegan for you.”

“No problem, I’m not hungry anyway.”

A laugh alerted them to Cosette’s entrance. “You know, I like the theme here. We could use some light heartedness after the past few days.”

Individually, they were each pulled aside for their post event interrogations, some of which were done with more than one person telling the story in frame. After that, they went out to the parking lot and staged a goodbye for the parting couples. When the filming was done, they ate cake together in their birthday room.

"Okay, here's the plan.” Jehan said as they ate. “I want you two—” He pointed to Grantaire and Enjolras— “to film yourselves having cute moments in your relationship over the next few months. But I remind you that you can’t be seen together in public—we need to avoid spoilers. Once we get to editing the final episode, you’ll send us what you have, and that can be our conclusion to your story."

“Great. Jehan, I am literally dying to watch this season,” Grantaire said. “The team better be snappy with the editing, I want it to look spectacular.”

* * *

It _was_ spectacular. When it premiered, the season was an absolute sensation. Never before had there been such high-stakes reality drama on the Bachelorette of all shows, and from the start the production team milked it for every last drop of tension.

The first episode was released two months after filming ended. After four and a half months, Grantaire found himself in California yet again. Everyone was reunited on a live show where the epic season finale had just played out in a show of drama, tragedy, tear-jerking reunions, and cutesy couple moments. There had been a small slideshow in memory of Claquesous, which was made with the aid of his friends and family. Seeing photos and videos from throughout Claquesous’ life had made Cosette along with many in the audience cry, but Grantaire did not cry with them. While he was sorry the man was dead, he was more caught up on the fact that in one of the images chosen, it appeared that Claquesous was in the middle of grave robbing. The picture was taken at night, obviously in a graveyard while Claquesous grinned prettily at the camera. A dirty shovel was slung carelessly over his shoulder while an unnamed man in the background was looking frantically to something out of frame. The image lasted only a second but left the artist deeply unnerved and led him to believe that the friends likely had more say than the family.

Strange memorials to the dead aside, the crowd had just followed Cosette and company to the end of their journey. Cosette and Marius were onstage with Bahorel, discussing the season and the current state of their life as an engaged couple. Their wedding was set to occur in three months; after the apparent near destruction of earth they did not want a drawn out engagement. In actuality, they had wanted to tie the knot as soon as Marius gained the weary but genuine approval of his terrifyingly imposing future father in-law, but they were forced to wait due to contractual obligations with the show. After having so much of their relationship observed, they had decided to keep their wedding a private affair. It would not be filmed, but a number of Bachelorette crew members would be attending as well as Grantaire and Enjolras, who stood off to the side waiting for their turn in the spotlight.

They had spent the preceding hour or so catching up with Bossuet: Les amis de l’ABC were reunited once more, save for Marius. Grantaire had already been in regular contact with Bossuet, and by extension so was Enjolras. The architect had made a full recovery from his trauma on the Bachelorette and was now in a happy relationship with his little doctor friend and Musichetta, the friend who had been watching after Joly while he was gone.

"I think there's another couple everyone wants to see,” Bahorel said, turning the crowd’s attention to the left where the two of them walked onstage. Grantaire high-fived Cosette and a flustered Marius as they passed.

When they finally arrived at their destination, they sat back in the hot seat, hands clasped.

"So, how long have you two officially been together?” Bahorel asked. “Rumor has it this started _before_ the crash.”

"No, we’ve actually only been together since I gained the approval of his friends." Grantaire laughed. Their four and a half months of dating was working out shockingly well. Since gaining the approval of Courfeyrac and Combeferre, Grantaire had all but moved into Enjolras’s flat. They had mostly ignored the warning to be careful about seeing each other for the sake of public scrutiny, especially after Grantaire charmed a cat into their lives. It couldn’t be helped: darling Rochambeau had been begging to be adopted, and for whatever reason cats liked Enjolras. Perhaps they were instinctually reacting to his alien nature.

“These friends?” A spotlight was cast out upon the crowd, finding its place above Courfeyrac and Combeferre. "Was it a difficult approval process?" Bahorel asked.

"He narrowly passed, we have very high standards," Courfeyrac announced.

"Courf, your standards are bullshit!" Grantaire cried in outrage. "I saw you laying under a table eating jam straight out of the jar for breakfast yesterday. You didn’t even use a spoon, you heathen!”

"Lies! I have never eaten jam in my life. Get your eyes checked, bitch, that was honey!”

"Ignore him," Combeferre said, placing a hand on Courfeyrac’s shoulder. "Once we saw how much R cared for Enjolras, he easily passed inspection.”

"And Enjolras, did you have to pass any tests?" Bahorel asked, the spotlight returning to the stage.

"Yes: Grantaire's friend Eponine grilled me for nearly an hour. I'm still not sure she likes me."

"She finds you acceptable. You would know if she didn't like you."

Eponine had actually hunted him down and cornered him in his office, trapping him on his lunch break. Her report had been that he was fucking weird but didn’t seem like a completely terrible person. From her, that was a glowing endorsement.

She hadn’t flown out for the event, having decided that a five hour flight was not worth only a weekend in California. Grantaire couldn’t blame her.

The questions moved on to their explanations of various moments in the season until they came upon the men’s tell-all, the episode which was shot just before the season finale wherein all the men returned to discuss the season up to that point.

"And we have to ask, R,” Bahorel said, “What are your feelings on Montparnasse? He was trashing you pretty hard in the tell-all."

"I don’t have beef with Montparnasse.” Grantaire rolled his eyes. “I mean, I don't _like_ him, but I respect his commitment to being an asshole."

"Fair enough. Moving on, do you think it was fate that brought you and Enjolras together?"

"Well,” Grantaire stalled, “I feel like we were a little bit setup because we were encouraged to go on by the same person."

"Yeah,” Bahorel said thoughtfully. “I actually think that person has something to say."

The spotlight panned over to a grinning Jehan.

"Hey,” he gave an awkward wave. “So, a mutual friend wanted Enjolras' on the show, and I was a little hesitant because he can be a bit intense. Fortunately when I was visiting in Cleveland, I went and got a tattoo from Grantaire—which is epic by the way—and he might have mentioned falling in love with a particular billboard."

Grantaire felt a sinking feeling in his gut as said billboard flashed onto screen to everyone’s amusement. It was the very billboard on which he had first seen Enjolras, standing there larger than life, advertising his firm’s services to the people of Cleveland.

"No!" the artist cried in horror. "I did not!"

"You did!" Jehan squealed.

"I don't even remember! Oh god, I just run my mouth while I'm tattooing. I need to learn to shut up."

“Did you know about this, Enjolras?” Bahorel asked.

“I knew that he’d seen the billboard, but I didn’t know that he had fallen in love with it.”

“Shut your pretty face.” Grantaire rubbed his burning cheeks.

"Anyway,” Jehan continued, “I thought I might set you two up."

"I hate this,” Grantaire said. “Thank you. We'll keep you in mind when we're naming our children."

"So, you two are happy then?" Bahorel asked.

"Very happy—at least I am.” Grantaire ducked his head. “I've never loved someone as much as I love him."

"Enjolras?"

"Grantaire is intensely special to me, and I love him very much." Enjolras’ smile was soft and focused on him alone.

"Aw, you're gonna make me cry, Enj."

"You two are adorable,” said their host. “Now, we have something special planned for the both of you."

"I'm suddenly worried," Grantaire grumbled, though he followed Bahorel offstage, a camera followed behind them as Bahorel pushed open a studio door and ushered the two of them inside, closing the door behind them.

"Okay, now I'm _really_ worried. I feel like this is the start of a slasher film," Grantaire laughed nervously, glancing about the room. It was dark, blue light shone stars down over them on a balcony overlooking the city. It was a decidedly pretty view, but he didn't understand why they had been brought there. He considered that they possibly wanted to end on them kissing under fireworks—that would be rather impressive—but they hadn’t been given any instruction. "What do you think, Apollo? Are they planning to kill us on live-" As his gaze sought out Enjolras, the blond was not where he had anticipated. Instead of standing beside him, Enjolras was kneeling as he opened a small black box.

Grantaire inhaled so quickly he nearly choked. "Shut the fuck up." His hands covered his mouth in shock.

"Grantaire." Enjolras ignored him, holding out the opened box where what appeared to be a ring sat cushioned. Grantaire did not get an especially good look at it through his rapidly blurring vision.

"You're not serious.”

"I'm always serious."

"You're an absolute madman," Grantaire said in disbelief.

Enjolras smiled. "Will you marry me?"

"Completely insane," Grantaire choked out. He thought he might be crying but he couldn’t feel his face.

"Is that a no?" Enjolras lifted an eyebrow.

"If you think for a second that I'd say no, then you are out of your mind."

"Then how about giving me a straight answer?"

Grantaire wiped his face and stood up straighter. "Okay, ask me again."

"R," Enjolras took his left hand and spoke softly, "will you marry me?"

"Absolutely, a hundred thousand times yes." He pulled Enjolras up kissing him so intently that he almost didn't notice when the fireworks started going off.

They paused for a moment, centimeters apart to watch a rainbow flag of pyrotechnics twinkle into light. He laughed at the absurdity of it all. "I love you so goddamn much." Grantaire pressed a quick kiss to his mouth.

"I love you more than you can imagine, and I look forward to being your husband." Enjolras followed that kiss with another.

At that Grantaire started crying harder, suddenly realizing he hadn’t stopped.

Enjolras wiped the tears from his face and slid the ring onto his finger. "All right?"

Grantaire stared at the ring, looking but not quite processing. "No. Yes. More than all right."

"Shall we return then?"

"Ugh, if we must.” He let his forehead rest on Enjolras’ shoulder. “I'd rather run away with you."

"The people are waiting."

“It’s always the people with you,” he teased.

When they made their way back into the studio the audience was screaming their delight.

"You okay, R?" Bahorel laughed when they were back on the couch, Grantaire rubbing at his face. He couldn't seem to stop the tears.

"This is why _I_ wanted to be the one to propose,” Grantaire choked out. “I'm a mess." Enjolras pulled him against his shoulder, kissing the top of his head. "I'm dead. You've killed me. Death by loving you too much," he mumbled semi-incoherently, staring at the ring. “Did you pick out this ring yourself?” he asked abruptly.

“Yes.”

“I could tell, it’s so fucking garish. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that for the sake of the show’s sponsorship but fuck, it’s so fucking ugly.” The ring was gold with two strips of tiny diamonds framing a braided metal interior.

“Sorry,” Enjolras grimaced. “I told them I should have Courf pick it out for me but they insisted I do it myself. I can ask them to take it back-“

“Don’t you dare! I will love this hideous ring to the day I die.”

“R-“

“No! I’m attached to it now, you’ll have to cut my finger off if you want to trade it back.”

"Well, R,” Bahorel said hastily, “before you tarnish our reputation anymore. That was two proposals in one season, quite impressive. Anything else to say to the people?"

"Thank you, and I need a nap. Preferably with my new fiancé," he began crying anew. "Why am I even crying!?"

“Enjolras, anything to say?”

“Remember to vote.”

Grantaire gave a gasping laugh, Enjolras was just too fucking much literally every second of his life. “Call your local representatives,” he wheezed in support, “Only you can bring forth change.”

And on that note, the show ended for another season.

There was something of an after party for the crew once the set was cleared. Ordinarily, Grantaire would have been all about getting drunk with the Bachelorette crew, but he was feeling physically and emotionally drained and very much wanted to throw himself at Enjolras. They accepted their invitation with the intention of leaving early.

After half an hour of standing around talking, Grantaire was standing with Cosette, Marius and Enjolras when there was a tap on his shoulder. He jumped and turned to see an imposing figure.

“Hello,” the man said, his face stern. “I don’t know if you know me, I’m-“

“Executive producer Javert,” Grantaire gaped. Javert was a notoriously terrifying figure within the industry. He funded and took part in producing many hard-hitting news documentaries as well as anomalously executively producing the Bachelorette. No one had ever been able to get a straight answer as to why he was onboard with such a trashy show—most were too afraid to ask.

“Yes.” He nodded harshly. “It is good to meet you. All of you.” He looked to the rest of the group.

“Is it?” Grantaire asked.

“Yes… I found each of your story lines quite heartwarming,” he said gruffly. “I wanted to thank each of you personally for a wonderful season.”

“Thank you,” Cosette said when Grantaire found himself at a loss for words. “I heard you fought the censors to keep all of Enjolras’ and Grantaire’s storyline in.” There had been a bit of backlash against a gay couple having the spotlight, but in the end all had been broadcast.

“Yes, a good story should always be played in full.”

“Thanks for that,” Grantaire said.

The executive producer nodded before turning his full attention to Cosette. “I also wanted to ask about your father. Has he ever done any television work?”

An odd look passed over Cosette’s face for only a moment. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Strange, he looks so familiar…”

“He has one of those faces.”

“Indeed…” he said thoughtfully, “Well, that was all. If you’ll excuse me.” He clasped his hands behind his back and wandered off.

 “What was that about?” Grantaire asked when Javert vanished.

“Maybe he’s a secret romantic?” Cosette shrugged.

“I mean with your dad.”

“Oh, uh probably nothing,” she said unconvincingly.

“Do you have a secret, Cosette?” Grantaire whispered, “Please, please, please share with us.”

Cosette squinted at the three of them, judging their trustworthiness. “You cannot tell anyone, okay?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, before I was adopted, my dad used to get background roles for movies and tv shows. He gave it up because Javert recognized him from an old prison system documentary he worked on and tried to have him arrested.”

“What did he do to deserve that?” Marius asked.

“At the time he was on the lam.”

Grantaire gave a startled laugh. “Wait, he was avoiding arrest while filming for a bunch of shows? How long did he get away with it?”

“About a year, and then another six months after he was recognized. They got him eventually,” she said hastily. “He did his time.”

“Did he?” Enjolras raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” she said with more conviction, “but not before he made a point to get into the background of some of Javert’s productions specifically.”

“Jesus,” Grantaire laughed, “you’ve got to have a lot of nerve to fuck with a man like Javert.”

“I think maybe it was his idea of keeping a low profile.” Cosette smiled. “He was showing up where he was least expected, after all.”

“And he just told you all of this?” Enjolras asked.

“Oh, he would never tell me. I only found out because I started noticing him in the background of old shows and did some hardcore internet sleuthing.”

“Cosette,” Grantaire sang, “can you tell your dad I love him?”

“Grantaire, you’re engaged,” she scolded. “You can’t just go around confessing your love for other men.”

“Fuck, I forgot! What even is my life?” He looked to Enjolras. “Why have you done this, you madman?”

“Because I love you?”

“The dark forces of the universe smile down upon me. I love you too. God, I’m tired.”

“Then let’s make our exit.”

“If you _insist_.” He turned to Cosette and Marius, “And obviously you will be invited to our wedding.”

Cosette hugged them tightly in turn. “Congratulations! I’m so glad I met you two.”

“Cosette, you are the best. You’d better keep in contact. Marius, come here.” Grantaire pulled Marius in to a tight hug. “Enjolras, come hug my son.” Enjolras sighed and joined the hug. “I love and venerate both of you, we will see you in a few months,” he told the couple.

And with that they set out for their hotel.

* * *

Grantaire kissed Enjolras as soon as they were behind the door to their room, pulling back to stare lovingly into his eyes. “Okay, I would ordinarily ravish you because you look utterly ravishing at all times. But I have sweated completely through this shirt and if I don’t take a shower I might die.”

“Go.” Enjolras kissed him again. “I shall anxiously await your return.”

Grantaire took his shower _very_ quickly. When he returned to the room, Enjolras was laying on the bed watching Ancient Aliens.

"Stop it," Grantaire laughed.

"Stop what?"

"You're making yourself angry."

"I can't help it. They're-"

"Sh." He kissed him on the forehead. "I know what they are. I repeat, you're just making yourself angry."

He sighed as Grantaire turned off the tv, slumping back onto the pillows with his arms crossed.

With the tv off, Grantaire climbed on top of him. "Hey guess what?" He tugged a loose curl.

"What?" Enjolras turned his unhappy face toward Grantaire, placing his arms on his shoulders.

"I love you."

Enjolras' expression went soft. "I love you too."

"You really meant the proposal?"

"Of course I did." He kissed the hideous engagement ring.

Grantaire’s heart thumped painfully and he laughed. "So, as my fiancé you have to start spilling your secrets to me."

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “I thought I already had.”

"I’m talking specifics: when you inevitably take over the world will you be building pyramid-like shrines to communicate with-"

Enjolras grabbed a pillow and shoved it over his own face, giving a strangled shout.

"What, I'm asking a genuine question! The great minds on Ancient Aliens must have some basis to their completely reasonable claims."

"You're the worst." The words were barely intelligible.

Grantaire pulled the pillow away. "And yet here you are."

"Here I am." Enjolras gazed up at him.

"I'm just saying that any good alien invasion-"

Enjolras grabbed him by the shoulders and rolled them over, kissing him and rather effectively shutting him up.

* * *

Later that night, when the two settled, Enjolras fell asleep with his arm curled around Grantaire’s waist. He looked almost peaceful when he slept.

Grantaire pressed a kiss to his temple before letting his head fall back against his pillow. He stared up at the ceiling, not really seeing it. The Bachelorette had landed him with an amazing, beautiful, alien fiancé. He couldn’t possibly think of a better outcome if he tried. Well, perhaps he could do without the hovering threat of an alien invasion, and sure he woke in the night with terrifyingly vivid dreams of humanity's destruction, but hey, sometimes that's just how life works out.

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you like my weird fucking story?
> 
> This is my ideal bachelorette season: gay aliens. Honestly, I think that's a pretty good summery of all of my interests. 
> 
> I loved writing this story so much. Any recommendations on what I should write next?
> 
> Also just saying, humanity is probably fucked in this case. Sorry to doubt e's abilities but he'd probably fight and die for humanity along with the other amis who he would shield from alien influence. Or maybe they all win happily ever after. You decide. 
> 
> Some notes to myself: e should have been 200% more worried when he started to think it was him causing the weirdness. Like he could have just left if he wanted to but was like nah I might kill all these humans but fuck it. Also, it should have been more clear that the rain/being outside was causing nosebleeds bc Marius was going in and out if wet bushes and r was digging around in the mud and kneeling on the wet grass. Also forgot to say what happened to Gueulemer and he was fine, but I think it's funnier to assume he dies and just literally no one cared. I think I left out all the little parts where e wasn't eating much at the start bc digesting is hard. And e should object to being nicknamed after a god (i said at the start i wouldnt call him apollo but I did it anyway bc i have no self-control) and should have been genuinely angry when accused of trying to take over the world. Also, Feuilly should have been more involved/talk more with e and become friends :-( also e should have struggled to find words more as a mind reader alien struggling with the limits of speech. 
> 
> I’m opens-up-4-nobody on tumblr if you want to say hi.
> 
> Thanks.

**Author's Note:**

> How’s my flirting game? Too much? Not enough? This story is so weird, I cant even. Was gonna wait to post it but I feel like garbage so I here we are.
> 
> Over the summer I was watching the bachelorette and I thought "what would enjolras be like on the bachelorette?". The idea was so funny to me that I nearly died. But how would you get someone as gay as e onto the bachelorette? My answer as it turns out is extremely wild. Maybe I just have an odd view of him. Anyway, r is exactly the sort of person I would love to see on the bachelorette and I love him. 
> 
> As you read this I want you to picture Jean Valjean dying inside knowing that these buffoons are chasing his precious daughter. 
> 
> Also, the production team made a massive mistake in choosing Marius who cosette is obviously immediately in love with. 
> 
> And I implore you to watch the bachelor/bachelorette (or better yet paradise), it’s so weird and fun. This is basically everything I want from a Bachelorette season, I’m not sure what that says about me… you’ll understand later…
> 
> My tumblr is opens-up-4-nobody
> 
> Thanks


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